


Into the Fog

by Tidbit03



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, I may not mention all the characters but I'll do my best, Not strictly a romance, Totally a story, but no seriously this is a plot driven story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-02-21 13:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 114,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18703666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tidbit03/pseuds/Tidbit03
Summary: What is this place? Everything is dark, the only sound the constant cry of circling crows and the harsh breathing of some creature looming over me. If I kept my eyes closed, maybe it will go away, or be gracious and end me quickly. Why, then, did it hesitate?





	1. Chapter 1

_B-bmp… b-bmp… b-bmp…_

A heartbeat? No, wait… my heartbeat…

_B-bmp b-bmp b-bmp b-bmp-_

It’s getting louder. I’m scared.

_B-BMP B-BMP B-BMP B-BMP-_

I can hear footsteps, closing in on me, heavily crunching over dead branches. I can feel the damp of moss under my body, the scrape of grass against my clothes, and the tremor of those footsteps, closer and closer. In my groggy, barely conscious state, all I could do was wait and listen for the demise that closed in on me. Its breath grew louder, huffing as though breathing through a metal mask. I tried to open my eyes, tried to move my body against the earth, but it wouldn’t listen to me.

_A present, my dear Trapper… Do with it as you please._

That voice, barely a whisper of wind that rustled the branches and leaves of the towering forest. The footsteps stopped, next to me, the breathing so loud and my heartbeat so erratic that I thought it would burst. I could hear the clang of metal, of something being placed carefully to the side.

My heart stopped. I felt the brush of a hand, sliding over mine, up my arm… and then it took hold of my chin, tilting my head up. Not a word was said by the creature that held me, only the sound of its breathing filled the tense space between me and it. I could feel my pulse jumping in my neck.

_My dear Trapper… there are sacrifices to be made… hurry up._

*-*-*-*

When I came to again, it was damp and cold, with only the faint flicker of light dancing on my eyelids. Slowly, hesitantly, I opened my eyes, adjusting to the firelight that danced on the slick cave walls. After a brief adjustment, I could see. I had been moved… there were no trees, no grass, only the walls of the cave, the firelight… and him.

He sat with his back to me, illuminated by the fire. He looked dirty, his dusty green overalls stained with mud and some other, darker fluid. But beyond the filth of his clothing, his skin seemed to have a dark tone, stretched over thick cords of muscle that could put body builders to shame. Scars overlapped one another, covering his broad shoulders and to parts of his body shadowed by what the firelight couldn’t touch. Jutting out from his strong flesh were long pieces of metal, in varying states of rust and breakage, holding onto his body as though rooted to his bones. I couldn’t help but frown, for what torture had this man endured to leave him in such a state as this?

My eyes shifted towards the dark of the cave; perhaps there’s a way out. I sat up, slowly, as quietly as I could, but not quiet enough. His head turned towards me, and though shadowed, I could see light reflect off a metallic mask that hid his face. I swallowed, nervous, and let my pathetic voice slip through my lips, “Where am I?”

_B-bmp… b-bmp… b-bmp…_

He didn’t speak. His breath was heavy and echoing in his mask, his body slowly turning to rise and face me. He was much taller than I expected, looming overhead like a gnarled, old tree. One foot came forward, then another. Only then did I see his hands. Scarred, thick fingers wrapped around a heavy machete in one hand, and the other a rusted bear trap. No, not rust… blood. Not just on the trap, but on his arms, his thick barrel chest, his mask, dripping crimson droplets onto the cave floor. The tread of his boots squelched in the scarlet puddles.

_B-bmp b-bmp b-bmp b-bmp-_

“S-stay back,” I could hear just how pitiful I sounded, my back pressing to the wall of the cave. There was no way out, nowhere to go. My body tremored uncontrollably, he was so close now, he could grab me. He knelt, the trap fell from his hand, and he reached…

_B-BMP B-BMP B-BMP-_

His hand seized my chin, gently, and he shook his head. Then, as quickly as he had come, he let go, backing up to his place by the fire and sitting, facing me this time. The weaponry dropped to the floor with a clang, and he lifted his hands to his face.

“My name is Evan.” The mask came down with his hands, resting in his lap now. The light was barely enough to illuminate a square jaw, and a stern expression. The scars overlapped his strong cheek bones and one crossed over his full mouth. I couldn’t figure out his eye color because of the shadows, but they were dark and fixated on my expression.

_B-bmp…_

“Evan?” I could barely whisper his name.

He nodded. “Evan MacMillan.”

“Why am I here?”

The man, Evan, sat back against a stalagmite and examined me with cold, black eyes. His face, shadowed by the dancing firelight, showed only slight interest in my question, if he had any interest at all. There was a long pause between me and him, the silence only filled with the crackle of the embers and our breathing. Then, finally, “I’ve never seen you around here before… most of the newcomers who arrive are on their feet as soon as they arrive.”

“Newcomers? What do you mean?”

And he told me. We weren’t anywhere on earth, at least not anymore. Here, we live an eternal death, sacrificed over and over, killed by monsters to please the master of this world, the Entity. The Trapper, or Evan, was one of these monsters, selected by the Entity to do its bidding. He told me how each of them had their own abilities, their own powers, and where each of them called home. Where he found me, the MacMillan Estate, was his home turf. He lamented that a few of the killers were a bit rude, some even outlandishly powerful, but that they didn’t necessarily choose this kind of, well, afterlife.

Then, he told me a bit more about where I come in. They call us survivors, and we were to escape them in these attempts called “trials.” If we escaped, we lived on to fight in another. If we were sacrificed, we would wake up at a campfire to face yet another trial. Over and over, the cycle repeats, pitted against monsters of the Trapper’s ilk.

But if one thing was for certain, it was this; every one of us, killer and survivor alike, were dead.

I felt cold, clammy, digesting the news as it sank like a pit into my stomach. I was dead, and I had been sent to this hellish eternity of being sacrificed over and over, but…

“If I’m one of these… survivors,” I raised my eyes to look at him, and he returned my gaze, “then why didn’t you immediately sacrifice me when you found me?”

Evan sat still, and I could practically see the gears turning in his head as he thought about his answer. But no sooner had I asked when a ringing sound filled our small cavern. Quickly, he snapped his mask back onto his face and rose to his feet, grabbing his weaponry from where they sat by the fire. “Stay close to the wall, in the shadow. Don’t make any noise.”

Following his orders, I pressed myself into the shadow of a stalagmite and kept small. But I couldn’t help but peek around the curved silhouette to see the newcomer. Evan, after making sure I had tucked myself away, turned to the darker part of the cave and shifted his grip on his machete. “Philip… what brings you here?”

“Evan,” a wispy voice echoed off the roof, more snarl than sound, “can’t I pay a visit?”

“You usually only stop by after a bad trial.”

“Well, when you’re as sensitive to light as I am, the survivors pick up on it. They made my head spin.” The voice, Philip, sounded annoyed and exhausted. “They all ended up escaping. Really, I don’t see why you have such a soft spot for the vile things.”

“They’re stuck here, like we are. The only difference is we killed in our past lives.” Evan’s voice was gruff. “Besides, we don’t get sacrificed, they do… Can you blame them for trying to live?”

“Yes, I can… and those abominable flashlights, too.” Philip hissed the words as though they were poison. I could hear their footsteps as they came closer to the little campfire that provided the only source of light in the cave. From what I could see, he appeared tall, even taller than Evan, but he was as thin as a rail. In his hand, he held some sort of… club? No, a spinal column, with a skull fixed to the end. His clothes were old, tattered, and patterned with tribal paint. “And with all the pallets they slam in your face, you should be harsher on them. Even Sally is getting irritated with their antics.”

“Not all of them are bad.” Evan’s voice sounded a bit more sullen, as though his argument had weakened. “But I won’t try to change your mind. After all, no man kills the same way.” His thick build moved into view, standing directly in front of me. His shadow made my little corner even darker.

_B-bmp._

“Evan… I do have a question for you.” Philip’s head turned to the trapper, and I could see his face. Thin, gaunt, with haunting white eyes. Evan picked his head up, inquiring the tall specter to continue, “Did the Entity… present something to you?”

_B-bmp._

“And if it did?” Evan didn’t miss a beat, but I could hear my heartbeat rising in my throat. It was as though those haunting white eyes could see me, even in this shadow. Philip took two short steps closer, looking into the face of the Trapper, before his face turned down to my position exactly, then back up. Evan’s hand tightened on his machete, his posture going rigid.

_B-bmp b-bmp b-bmp…_

“Just… mind yourself, Evan.” Philip’s eyes flicked toward me once more, then he turned away, towards where he had come in from. “Not everyone will like your… pet. You know where she belongs.” He raised his club, holding it out to point to my hiding spot. “You know how Carter is. And Michael. Hell, even that bumbling clown would kill her on the spot. Just don’t be stupid.”

“Leave.”

“Leaving.” Without another word, he was gone, his footsteps echoing on the walls and receding into the damp.

A thick silence hung in the cave after his departure, suffocating me. I slowly crawled from my spot, back into the light of the fire as my heart beat calmed down. I watched the man before me, carefully, concerned but not trusting. After all… He had a giant machete in his hand. “Is my being here causing trouble for you?”

“Don’t worry about it.” The man walked away from me, closer to the fire.

I frowned, not satisfied, “who was that? He didn’t seem at all pleased that I was here.”

“That was Philip Ojomo. Survivors like you call him the Wraith.” Survivors like me… “He’s strong, but not overwhelmingly so. Hard to be a badass when flashlights burn you. Just ignore him, he’s spiteful.” He says that, but he sounds more distraught now that the Wraith was gone than when he was here.

_My Trapper, it is time._

That voice… the Entity? But survivors don’t hear the entity; at least, they’re not supposed to, from what Evan told me. My eyes traveled to his now rigid form, stone-still by the fire. Slowly, he turned towards me. I expected to see unbridled rage, a crazed look, something other than what I found in his gaze. Instead… I saw a deep sadness as he lumbered into the darkness


	2. Chapter 2

            So much time passed in that cave, idling by that fire. I listened to the drip of water hitting puddles on the floor, the creak and cries of bats as they woke for the night, and other odd creatures skittering over stones and sand. I held my knees to my chest, listening to it all, taking it all in.

            Who even am I? The question was ringing in my head, pounding against my skull and begging for answers. The only thing I had was my clothes, and a vague idea of what I looked like from looking into a nearby puddle. I was short, with a small build, dark hair, and dark eyes. But then again, this cave is dark, so that might not be right. I had searched my pockets, over and over again, for some form of identification or piece from my life and came up empty handed.

            _I don’t even have a name for myself._ I ran my hand through my hair, pulling it back from my face to better feel the fire’s heat on my chilled cheeks. I couldn’t remember anything from before arriving here; no family, no friends, no jobs or schooling or even how I may have died. All of that was as dark as this cave, with only faint embers of possible memories floating around. I could reach for one, just as it went out, over and over and get no closer to knowing who I am.

            I could hear footsteps and heavy breathing; Evan was back.

            Should I run? Should I hide? Why didn’t I leave while he was gone? His form slowly came into the light, materializing from the inky depths of the cave. His mask was held in his hand, his bear trap gone and his machete bloodied. He looked drained, exhausted, and bloody with dark circles under his eyes. Those eyes found me, and his muscles visibly twitched in surprise.

            “I didn’t expect you to still be here.” His voice was rough, as though he had eaten gravel.

            “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

            Evan sighed and dropped his blade by the wall, rubbing his face with a dark hand… more blood. He was coated in it, the stench filling the small space with that metallic tang. I couldn’t help but feel bad for his victims.

            “Did your trial go well?”

            “Yes…” Evan’s voice trailed off, not quite grasping my question. His body sunk down the wall until he was sitting, eyes closed, just breathing.

            This was my chance…

            But why can’t I go?

            “You must be tired, huh… You’re covered in blood.”

            “I never got your name.” His voice was soft, redirecting the conversation. His eyes, previously closed, now focused on me with the unasked question. My face grew hot and I looked away.

            “I don’t know it.”

            Silence.

            It was a while since either of us had said anything. Had he fallen asleep? My eyes, which had been fixated on the coals, turned up to once more flick over his posture. He had gone lax against the wall, but his eyes were still open, watching me by the fire. His lips were turned down in a perplexed frown, the shadows playing tricks over his strong jaw as his muscle twitched.

            After what seemed like ages, he finally spoke. “You really are a strange case.” He sat up a little straighter, leaning towards me. “Well… when it comes back to you, we’ll call you by your name. But until then, you need a new one.” He was quiet again, with a hand on his chin as he seemed to run ideas through his head. “…Farisa.”

            “Farisa?”

            “Yes.”

            Well, I wasn’t opposed to the idea… so I nodded. Farisa. That was my name, at least until I could remember my actual one. He seemed to be satisfied with my approval and closed his eyes once more.

            “The exit is that way… if you want to leave.” He raised his hand and pointed to where he had emerged from. “You should be with the other survivors, get to know them and yourself. It’s only right.”

            “But what about you?” I couldn’t help my heart jumping at the chance of escape.

            “What about me?”

            “W-well…” He had a point. What about him? He was clearly well-established in this realm of death and sacrifice, maybe even at home. Or at least… as home as he could be in this cave. After a long moment of thinking, I couldn’t come up with an answer. “How do I get to the others?”

            But my question fell on deaf ears. The lumbering man’s eyes were closed, and snores could be heard softly echoing around the cave. It was time. Gathering my wits, I slowly stood and headed into the darkness.

*-*-*

            The night was cool, with the whisper of wind blowing past my cold face. I was out of the cave now and could see nothing but trees and grass. In the dark, the shadows crept through the night, slinking along like the creatures Evan had told me about. Whispers carried on the wind, soft, leading me through the tangle of trees and away from the cave, away from Evan. At the passing of a moment, I found myself stopping, turning back to look in his direction. It didn’t make any sense at the time, nor does it now, but I wanted to run back to that cave and demand why he helped me. Why, out of everyone, why me? And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I just turned, and kept on the footpath through the trees.

            So this was the MacMillan Estate… It was incredibly dark, with towering oaks reaching into the night sky. In the distance, beyond walls, I could see old decrepit structures leaning on their framework, some against the husks of dead trees. As I walked further and further into the misty wood, flame barrels illuminated the flora and lit my way past broken down walls, log piles, and…

            Generators?

            I approached one, laying a hand on the cold metal. It wasn’t in working order, and lights flickered overhead from it’s lighting pole. I knelt to inspect it closer, peering into the open sides. Leaves, dirt, and overgrowth clogged the gears, restricting the pistons from being able to pump. Reaching in, I started to clear the growth.

            _B-bmp._

My heartbeat…

            _B-bmp… b-bmp…_

Something was getting closer. I left the generator be, backing away towards a nearby tree. I swallowed hard, looking around, shaking slightly at what could possibly be coming. In the distance, something lurched, something heavy and gaited. As it grew closer, I could see misshapen facial features, a hunch, and a chainsaw gripped tightly in one hand. The Hillbilly, from what I remember Evan telling me. What was it that he had told me about the Hillbilly?

            He was headed straight towards me.

            _B-bmp b-bmp b-bmp b-bmp-_

The chime of lights in the distance stopped the monster’s advance. Another generator had been done, and the monster turned away from his previous path. I heaved a sigh and sagged against the tree, trying to settle my nerves before creeping back to the generator.

            One… two…

            _Ching!_

Another generator went off in the distance. I looked up with a frown, knowing what that meant; other survivors. Did I somehow get into a trial? I was looking for the main campsite, not this…

            _B-BMP B-BMP B-BMP B-BMP-_

Just as my own generator powered up, I heard the whirr of a chainsaw, growing closer at an alarming rate, then-

            Pain blossomed across my back, and I didn’t even hear myself scream. I could feel my skin, tearing apart between the teeth of the saw, the old chains lubricated by my blood spewing onto the dirt. I fell onto my face, breathing hard, tears streaking down my agonized face. I was already lightheaded as my body was forcefully lifted from the sticky red mud, flopped over this creature’s shoulder like a sack of grain. My flayed back stung and throbbed, hot with pain as the landscape blurred by. I saw trees, grass, blasts of light from barrels and repaired generators, a water tower…

            Then there was the hook. The rusted iron was forced through my back, poking out of my chest. I screamed but heard no sound. I felt it break through my chest plate, force my ribs apart, pull against my muscles and insides, and yet I felt no pain. Perhaps it was my adrenaline kicking in, keeping me from losing it. I looked down at the blood that puddled underneath of me, feeling my life drain out of me with each drop that fell from my body.

            I didn’t feel their hands. I didn’t see the ground beneath me or remember rushing to finish the last two generators. I didn’t hear the horn. I was walking, moving, but nothing was registering. When had I gotten down from the hook? Where had the Hillbilly gone, and when would he be back? I felt their hands pull and push, guide me out of a well-lit gate. We ran out, and the creature stayed behind, watching us tread deeper and deeper into the forest.

            Who were they? I couldn’t see them. I ate dirt, tripping over my own leaden feet and tumbling into the grass. I laid there, letting hot tears soak my face as their hands wrapped around my arms and pulled me up, again and again, no matter how many times I fell. Were the hands large? Small? My body was numb, my nerves rioting against my brain, refusing to feel anything except confusion. I could taste copper, feel and smell it in my nose, choking me as the fog-heavy air filled my lungs.

            I saw light; a fire, welcoming and warm in the distance. More figures sat around it, perched on logs with an array of items strewn about. Faceless bodies, blurs of colors and sound, voices warbled and incoherent. I couldn’t concentrate.

            My eyes closed. 


	3. Chapter 3

            “Who is she?”

            “I’ve never seen her before.”

            “Can we trust her?”

            “Why can’t we trust her? She’s stuck here like we are.”

            Voices? Who’s? My head was spinning as I gradually came to consciousness, feeling groggy and disoriented. My whole body felt like it had been hit by a full-grown oak, making it heavy from head to toe. A hammer pounded away at the back of my skull. Pain radiated a dull rhythm in my back, zigzagging from muscle to muscle, left to right, a zipper ripped open to expose the nerves.

            “I treated her back. The muscles were a little shredded, but if she rests, the Entity should have her fixed up by her next trial.”

            The events came back. The Hillbilly’s chainsaw shredding through my spine, a blur of dilapidated buildings and flame barrels, leaving Evan’s cave. All of it came back in a hurry, causing my stomach to churn and roil. I knew I should have gone back to that cave, waited for Evan to wake up. He could have brought me here, then I wouldn’t have walked into that trial-

            Or wouldn’t I have? Evan was a killer too. There’s no guarantee I won’t face him in the future. My heart sunk into my nauseated stomach, appalled by the very thought. I could only just barely rise and scramble a few feet to vomit what little I may have had in my stomach.

            “Easy, kid, easy…” The voice that spoke now was soft, and a warm hand touched my shoulder. Through the blur of my tears, I could barely make out a broad-shouldered, heavyset man with a thick beard. He looked friendly enough. “First time is always rough.” He sat there with me for a while, letting my body give itself up to its sensations before letting me take back over. “It gets better with time.”

            “Doesn’t make it suck any less, but at least it gives us a reason to try.” Another voice spoke up now, from behind me. I did my best to turn towards it, but my stomach protested, and I was heaving again. “Gross, are you sure you didn’t just come from a Plague trial?”

            “Nea, that was uncalled for…” Yet another voice spoke up.

            “Oh, go jump in a locker.”

            “Enough!”

            All heads, including mine, turned. A girl stood beside the campfire with her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was tied back into a tight black bun and a sweater covered her shoulders. Her piercing black eyes held the faces of everyone there, before resting on me. “What Nea said is right. It sucks, a lot, but now you know what to avoid. And if you get caught, well, you know what to expect. You’re a survivor... and that’s that.”

            A survivor. So these people are the survivors Evan told me about. By taking a brief look around the fire, I could count seventeen, a mixture of men and women, younger and older, and all sorts of backgrounds. A girl with a rather short, colorful hairstyle sat crossed legged on a tree stump, scowling at a sheepish looking man across the fire from her. I had reason to assume that the girl on the stump was Nea.

            “So how did you end up here?” The girl with the bun knelt in front of me, extending her hand. In it, a scrap of fabric. When I didn’t answer, she pressed on, “No need to be shy. I drank myself stupid and wound up here.”

            I took the handkerchief from her hand and used it to wipe my mouth, feeling a little better than before but not much. “I don’t know how I got here. I can’t remember.” The admittance made me feel small, inferior to this group. They knew their places, their skills, how to maneuver through this world and how they got here. Surely, they all had skills in their life that helped them to prepare for their time here. “The Trapper found me as I was waking up.”

            The girl nodded slowly, “You were lucky, then. Had the Shape found you, he would not have been as kind.” She rose to her feet and looked back to the fire. “Claudette, is it ready yet?”

            I let myself sink back into the ground, relieved to have the focus taken away from me again. It was all so much to take in; the pain, the realization of the true nightmare this place was, and that I had only seen three of the monsters that lurked in this realm. And that girl, she said I had been lucky it was Evan. Were the others truly not so kind? The Shape seemed pretty bad… if I remembered correctly, that’s Michael.

            A twig snapped nearby. All the survivors leapt to their feet and backed towards the fire. The man beside me gently took me by the arms and pulled me further from the forest edge, his posture rigid as he examined the shadows. But there was no need. I gently pushed him off and shakily stood on my own feet.

I could hear him breathing in the darkness.

            “I’m okay.” I found myself saying into the dark. I didn’t believe myself for an instant, but those words would have to work. I took a few steps closer to the edge, further from the light. “You didn’t sleep long.”

            “I slept long enough.”

            He did not sound happy. His reply was short, curt, as though aggravated.

            “What are you doing here?” The girl from before, Nea, called out, causing me to jump. I looked back at her, not sure I liked this crazy-haired chick. “You know this is the survivor camp.”

            “I won’t stay long.” Evan’s voice was a low growl, voicing his displeasure with her. Then, it softened, redirected for my ears. “I wanted to make sure you made it here in one piece.” There was quiet from him for a moment, his breathing still, before he went on, “You went into a trial.”

            “I know.”

            There was more silence, then, “and you’re okay?”

            I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I’m okay.” I was not okay. I could feel their eyes on my shoulders. I knew they were listening, judging. They didn’t trust me for a moment. “The Hillbilly didn’t get me too bad.”

            “Now that’s a damned lie.”

            I couldn’t see his expression. In fact, I couldn’t see him at all. I was talking to the inky depths of the forest, only knowing he was there by his disembodied voice. It was though he himself were the forest, watching on and listening to its intruders. “I’m fine. They helped me out of the trial.” I did a small gesture back towards the others, trying my best to alleviate his worries.

            Had he really been worried about me?

            There was silence for a while, followed by a heavy sigh. Branches crunched under his heavy boots as he moved in the dark, away from our circle. “If you say so.” And he was gone, without even so much as a goodbye. I watched the shadows, for some inkling that he was there, still watching, still listening, but he was truly gone. My heart, which had been beating hard against my bruised ribs, began to calm and slow as the icy night settled on my shoulders.

            “Come by the fire, before the Entity sucks you in.” A gentle set of hands took me by the arm and led me away from the forest edge. I sunk onto a log, between two of the others I hadn’t exchanged names with. The hands belonged to a dark-skinned girl with glasses, her hair braided and tucked under a loose cap. After her hands had released me, they had found another object, a bowl filled with a steaming liquid. “Here, eat. You’ll need to get your strength back.”

            Minutes passed by the fire, stretched in silence as everyone held their own bowls. One girl, done before the rest, held a guitar in her lap and strummed a solemn chord. The others would listen as they ate or doze off in their sleep. One man fiddled with a puppet that was attached tightly to his arm.

            “So, newcomer. We don’t know your name.” It was the girl with the bun again. She hadn’t let me out of her sight since the Trapper came by. “I’ll start. I’m Feng Min.”

            “Farisa. At least, that’s my name for now.” At her suspicious stare, I felt obligated to explain, “I can’t remember anything. My past, how I got here, not even my name. E-… the Trapper suggested it.” I squeezed the bowl tightly in my hands. There was no point hiding the truth, even if it meant I was digging myself into a hole. “He said I might be able to remember if I came here.”

            “Well… he’s not wrong.” Nea frowned, holding her bowl against her knee. “But the hell kind of name is Farisa?”

            “What’s wrong with it?”

            “It’s an Arabic word.” One of the men answered this time, an old man with a cigarette balanced between his lips. “One of its translations is ‘prey.’ You sure he gave you that name out of kindness?” He took a long puff before sighing the smoke out through his nostrils. His eyes slid towards me, with just the faintest shadow of pity, then back to the inky dark of the forest as he chuckled out a puff of smoke. “How ironic.”

 

*-*-*

            It didn’t take long for me to exchange names with the rest of them, but how I would ever remember who was who was beyond me. Bowls were cleaned and put away, the fire was stoked, and some set to resting for the night, but not all.

            One of the men, David, stood near the edge of our small clearing, looking out into the depths of the woods. He had told me he was a rugby player before he arrived here and had been in his fair share of brawls. Seeing him standing there, it was as though I was peeking into how he used to start his fights. His broad shoulders were squared, ready for a fight, as he took a step into the woods.

            The forest swallowed him, and he was gone.

            I sat up, alarmed, but none of the others seemed to have noticed… or cared. Then, Claudette stood from where she had been sitting, stretched for a long while, and followed David into the fold. Only after two others, Kate and Ace, followed them did I realize what was going on.

            They were going into a Trial.

            “Feng Min?” I found myself at her side, my voice soft as I readied my question for her. “How do we know when we’ve been summoned for a Trial?”

            The girl with the bun, Feng Min, was among the stockpile of toolboxes- Bill had explained we could take a few tools in to help us during our trial. A wrench was in her hand while the other checked the contents of a particularly large box. “Well… it’s hard to explain. I guess the Entity tells you.” She pulled out a grease-covered towel and set it to the side, replacing it with a set of swivel sockets.

            “But what does that mean?”

            “You’ll learn.” Feng patted the ground beside her, motioning for me to sit. “It’s kind of like this. You have this feeling, like you need to be there. You’ll look out into those shadows, and find yourself stepping in. And once you take that first step, there’s no backing out.” She grabbed a large looking gear from inside the toolbox and placed it beside the rag, saving it for later. The piece looked almost brand new.

            I sat beside her, picking up one of the toolboxes she hadn’t touched yet. “But… what happens when you get sacrificed? What if I don’t escape the trial?” The questions just kept coming to my mind; what happened if I was sacrificed? What did each killer do? What would happen if the trial never ends?

            There was a soft caw overhead. My eyes traveled upward, along the stark silhouette of a crow perched on a long branch. It bowed its head low, its red eyes shining bright, fixated on us.

            “He’s watching.” Feng whispered, placing a toolbox to the side. “No more questions… Go rest, Farisa… I can’t imagine that you won’t be facing another trial soon.” She picked up another toolbox and set to organizing its contents, now practically ignoring me.

            I watched the crow for a while, unaware that more and more of my new comrades were disappearing, one by one, into the forest beyond.


	4. Chapter 4

            Who knew how much time had passed while the others were gone? It seemed like ages before anyone re-emerged from the surrounding forest. David had returned with his group, and Jeff, who had left with Nea, Dwight, and Adam, only returned with two of his comrades. Dwight did not return with them. At first, I was confused, and I started to open my mouth to raise the question, until Feng rose her voice instead.

            “Dwight was sacrificed.” It was more of a statement than a question from Feng.

            Jeff shook his head. “He didn’t make it to the door. He was almost there when he found us.” He sat down by the fire, holding his side with a grimace. “It was a rough round. We went to Coldwind Farm, near the broken-down silo. The doors were so close together, and he was already coming as Dwight finally got to us… and then it was over. He raised his knife, and it was over.”

            I shuddered, a brief sense of terror chilling my skin. Feng placed a hand on my shoulder, reassuring, “It won’t be long before he rejoins us. In this realm, death is only temporary.” She looked back at Jeff, frowning softly, “Was it Michael?”

            “Yes.” Jeff reached towards the items stockpile, rummaging through it before pulling out a gauze roll. He set to his side, grunting, “The man is ruthless…” Upon closer inspection, I saw that blood turned his whole side a rich crimson color, heavy and thick with the scent of copper. His fingers became bloodied as he pressed the gauze to a rather deep looking puncture.

            “He’s no man.” Nea growled, perched on a log stump nearby. “He’s a monster.”

            There was a groan from above, as though a thunderstorm was brewing on top of us. The sky was getting darker, the shadows around us thick like tar. Our clearing seemed to be getting smaller and smaller, the shadows hungry for us, closing in on our campfire…

            Inky tentacles slithered from the ferns, towards the fire. I could only watch in disgust as they wriggled and writhed around each other, eels piling in a thick, muddy mess of shadow. The sky erupted with yet another groan, and wind whipped through the trees, howling a low, forlorn cry. The crows shrieked in their raucous calls, flying in large circles overhead.

            The shadowy, slithery mass on the ground dissipated, and Dwight was left, coughing and grunting in the shadow’s puddle. His skin was pale, placid as he shook in place, having not come to yet. The rumbling sky calmed down, retreating to a post-storm yellowy color whilst the crows settled themselves on high branches, their beady red eyes looking down on our little clearing. The wind died down, and all was still again, light returning to the clearing. I saw the others rise from their spots to go to him, but I could not move.

            _Come._

I felt it more than heard it, ice gripping me by the shoulders. My eyes traveled to the forest edge. I could feel my stomach lurching, protesting at the terror and dismay that waited for me in those trees. My muscles were screaming at me, begging me to stand, to move, to _run_. When was I on my feet? The edge was moving closer, the darkness reaching past me with its slick fingers. It held me by the wrists, the ankles, and went taut.

            I screamed as my legs were yanked from under me, and the clearing disappeared from view.

*-*-*

            Everything was dark and cold. I couldn’t see anything, not even my own hands in front of my face. My body still ached from being yanked so hard. I could feel the ground shifting beneath my body, moving fast, scraping my skin and clothes with forest debris until I probably looked like a shrub myself. I was still being dragged through the forest, further and further from the campfire. I couldn’t see the flames anymore, and no voices fell upon my ears.

            The ground lurched away from under me. I felt my ankles being pulled, stretched, and my body thumped onto the ground with a terrible thud as that grip released me. It knocked the breath from my lungs, and tears pricked my eyes as I forced myself to try to breathe and take a look at my surroundings.

            Trees reached their branches high into the sky, stretching for the clouds with their thick clumps of leaves. They barely kept the mist and rain from falling to the overgrown grass, allowing moss and ferns to grow over their bark and nearby boulders. In the distance, I could see a warmly lit cabin, with no doors and a porch covered in overgrowth. Slowly, I managed to get my feet underneath of me and stand, set on making my way to the cabin. I could try to find food, or something in there that could be useful…

            It wasn’t as welcoming as it looked. Puddles of old blood stained the floorboards and stairs. Skulls were left in piles against old beer kegs, some of them missing teeth, others still holding remnants of who they used to be. The candle-covered chandelier overhead was coated in Spanish moss, dripping down towards the dilapidated dining table. Molded scraps of meat and piles of what resembled food lay crumbling on the shredded table cover, providing ample food for the maggots that swarmed and nested there. Rope had been left haphazardly coiled here and there or found hanging from the tops of the door frames.

            “Farisa?”

            I looked over, my heart leaping in my chest. It was Laurie, a flashlight held tightly in her hand. I heaved a sigh of relief; it was only her. She frowned at seeing me in the cabin, then pushed past me and went up the stairs. “Come on, don’t just stand there. We have work to do.” With no other option, I followed her up the steps.

            _B-bmp._

            The killer was getting closer. My ears were ringing, my heart beat bouncing in my veins. Laurie was crouched next to a generator, tucked against the outside of the building on the porch. I crept next to her, hesitating to touch the generator just yet. What if we began working, and the noise lured the monster closer? I tried to get a look at the forest floor below and around, but there was no sight of whatever lurked in this trial with us.

            My heartbeat calmed. They were further now. Laurie reached into the generator, and we began working to clear the debris.

            There was a scream in the distance, a man’s. It was filled with agony.

            Minutes went by since then, and only the sound of the generator rumbling to life filled the silence. Our generator turned on.

            In the distance, so did another.

            “This way.” Laurie waved her hand, and hopped off the porch, disappearing into the grass in the distance. I followed as quick as I could, but she was already so far ahead. She disappeared behind a tree, and I did my best to follow, but-

            _Snap!_

            I cried out, forced to my knees. Something had snapped around my ankle, tearing through it with iron teeth. I felt my blood oozing out of it, pouring into the tall grass and staining whatever contraption had captured me. Hesitantly, I reached down and felt the cold metal.

            I recognized it immediately. It was one of Evan’s traps.

            Evan was here! For a moment, I felt a little bit relieved, but that relief turned to anguish when I realized what that meant. We were here, in a Trial.

Against Evan... no.

Against the Trapper.

            _B-bmp… b-bmp…_

He was getting closer. I still hadn’t managed to get the trap off my leg. It was clamped tight, the rust on the screws keeping the jaws from opening. The coils were taut, refusing to budge. I whimpered, getting desperate, pushing hard against the jaws until my hands, too, bled. I pushed and I pushed, but my blood was making the cold metal slick under my shaking hands.

            _B-bmp b-bmp b-bmp b-bmp-_

He was almost on top of us now. Laurie had come back, bending down to pull on the trap. “Come on, damn it.” She growled, pushing the teeth apart, her arms quivering with the effort. I gasped as I felt the metal teeth release my shredded leg, and I had just enough space to yank my leg out. Laurie let the trap go, and it snapped shut.

            _B-BMP B-BMP B-BMP B-BMP-_

I scrambled to my feet, pulled by Laurie towards a stand of wooden structures. I could hear Evan’s breathing, feel his stare on the back of my neck. He had seen us.

            He was coming.

            “Farisa, go! Keep running!” Laurie hollered at me before turning around, flicking her flashlight at him. And I listened; even in my slowed state, I limped ahead, rushing away from Laurie and Evan. I wasn’t about to hesitate now, not when she had thrown herself in harm’s way for my sake.

            My foot squelched in the dirt, muddied by my blood. I slowed my pace, my heart beat dulling down as I left Evan behind. I looked back, but only for a brief moment. I never stopped walking, even though the heat of my ankle and its throbbing made it difficult.

            Another generator turned on, close by. I saw people running from behind a stand of trees and bushes, one deeper into the woods, one coming closer. As they neared me, I could make out their features. Broad shoulders, heavyset, thick beard. I had already let myself down onto my knees before he made it to me, quickly losing whatever strength had helped me this far.

            “Let me see your leg.” He didn’t have to ask twice. I let my leg extend out, and he took it in his hands, inspecting the punctures before pulling a roll of gauze from his pockets. He set to wrapping it, carefully, making it tight and secure. “You just have to make it through the trial. Two more generators and we’re out. Do you think you can do it?”

            Honestly, I didn’t think I could. But all the same, I nodded my head. He helped me to my feet, and together we walked ahead in the woods. I was careful not to disrupt my leg too much, and the rain that fell helped to dampen my feverish face. We approached another generator, occupied already by Quentin, and set to work.

            I heard Laurie shriek in the distance, and I cringed at the sound. Tears rolled down my face as we turned the generator on. One left.

            _B-bmp._

I could see him coming in the distance. I froze in place, watching him approach.

            _B-bmp b-bmp b-bmp-_

I could hear his breathing, soft, getting louder with every long stride. His hand was tight around his machete. I could see his eyes.

            They were hazel.

            “Farisa, don’t just stand there!” I heard Quentin, from somewhere nearby.

            _B-BMP B-BMP B-BMP-_

The machete rose above his head.


	5. Chapter 5

_What was wrong with me?_

          I stood over her, a full seven feet off the ground that she lay lifeless against. The Entity held my shoulders, as though looking down at her from my height. My blood should be boiling at the mere sight of her; how dare she sleep in a Trial? I should be enraged, I should want to kill her on the spot, slice her open with my machete or hang her on the nearest hook, and yet, I felt nothing. Why did I feel nothing against this pathetic survivor?

          I knelt down, setting my trap to one side and my machete to the other. Now that I was looking closer, I had never seen her before. I held her by the chin, inspected her face, her physique. Small, frail, not even dirty yet. She still smelled of her Death; cigarette smoke and ash, dried blood, the musk of hallucinogenic herbs. I couldn’t help but frown at her fate. Whether or not she had caused her demise, there was no helping it. She was here now.

_My Dear Trapper, there are sacrifices to be made._

          I let go of her chin and turned up towards the sky. I could feel the ice lifting from my skin as the Entity took his leave, disappearing into the world beyond to converse with the others, prepare them for their respective Trials. After making sure It was gone, I returned my gaze to the girl. She looked so helpless in her unconscious state.

          I found my machete, gripped it by its leather-bound hilt and raised it, ready to end it and make it quick, send her to the Survivor Camp. That’s where she belonged, anyway. But…

          I couldn’t do it.

*-*-*

          I went back into the Trial after dealing with her. To my surprise, there were only three survivors this time; she was supposed to be their fourth then. How cruel the Entity could be, sending in a confused girl to face me right after she enters this plane of existence. I never could quite understand why it was the Entity made this plane anyways; why is it that there are the survivors, cunning little bastards with only one goal to escape, and killers, who’s sole purpose was to please the very being that sucked them into this eternal hell? For some, it wasn’t so much hell as it was their every wish, but for me…

            I just wanted to protect my family’s business, and my father. This wasn’t what I asked for.

            My boots crunched over dead sticks and debris, and already I could hear them, smell them in my turf. I could sense their fear, hear their heartbeats clamoring against their ribs, frightened birds shrieking to escape. My lips mirrored my mask, grinning ear to ear as I heard the explosion of a generator, tinkered with too hard by sloppy, shaking hands. My blood was boiling in my veins, ready to feel the heat of their life splash against my skin and stain my blade red.

            I grabbed one by the hair, lifting her with ease and tossing her over my shoulder as her comrade ran away from the generator they had been desperately working on. In my agitated state, the ground whirred past as though I had become wind, like the Entity. It all seemed so fast now, my blood bubbling and boiling until all I could see was red. I was blinded by my own thirst.

            Shrieks filled my ears, the sweetest sound one could hope for. The snap of traps, crunching into the unsuspecting victim’s ankle, shattering their bones and ripping their tendons to shreds. Their blood cascading down dirty skin, their panicked wails as they fought desperately to free themselves from my traps. It was only a matter of time before they would all be in my clutches, dead by my hands-

            I hooked the survivor on my shoulder, locking eyes with her only for a brief second. My lust ebbed away, watching the fear and misery in her eyes. I had trapped them, in this map, in my tools picked for their demise, lived up to my name as the Trapper. But I was just as trapped as they were in this realm.

            I backed away, and resumed my hunt, shaking off that brief sense of empathy, but thankful it had come when it did.

*-*-*

            Back in my cave, I cleaned myself up in a shallow pool in back. In the rush of the Trial, I had coated myself in blood and grime. My fingers felt slick from the greasy coils of my traps, slipping through the blood, lubricating my skin and allowing the blood to easily slip off into the water below. Even my mask, smooth and metallic, had begun to rust from the blood and water that would never cease to coat its edges.

            Finally, as clean as I could get my scarred flesh to be, I returned to the fire to dry.

            That’s when I heard her move for the first time, and upon turning, sensations and emotions got mixed up. She had plastered herself against the wall, as though wanting to become the very stones that made this cave, her frightened eyes locked on me. Not my mask, but the me behind the mask. It felt like those eyes could see through me, see straight through my strength, see past my endeavors in this realm and go back, far back into my past.

            I wanted her to look away, to shriek and run or something. But she never budged, never made a sound.

            I didn’t want her to run.

*-*-*

            She left not long after I returned from another Trial, right after I had fallen asleep. The cave felt emptier without her, even if it had been for a short while. She had asked so many questions, so many curiosities on the realm that she and I both inhabited. And through it all, her fear had melted away, diminished into nothing in my presence. It felt good, to have a survivor like her by my side, even if for a short while. But now that she’s gone, I find myself pacing at the entrance of my cave, my hand twitchy, clenched around my machete. I had been listening to the screams of the survivors in the distance and the rev of a chainsaw, rusted and high-pitched as it tore through my land. I wasn’t sure what the Hillbilly was doing in my forest, but the Entity chooses who goes where.

            Then I heard her shriek. There was no denying it. I knew the screams of all the survivors, but that was a scream I hadn’t heard before. I should be glad for Billy; he’s doing a good job, all things considered. He’s already caught a couple of the survivors, with her included. That’s what the Entity wanted.

            Even so… I couldn’t help but feel rage towards him in that moment.

            I stormed forth from the cave, deeper into the woods, lurking around the edge of the Trial. I listened, watched, waited. I could hear the Entity lurking overhead, hissing with bloodlust as the rusted chains of the Billy’s saw shrieked into the night sky. I heard her scream again, and my blood boiled. Not like how it was in trial. No… it was a different burn. My whole body felt as though it were on fire, flaring with a mixture of emotions, some of which I wasn’t sure of.

            I waited by one of the gates, listening as the generators popped one by one, until finally the last generator roared to life and power was restored. I heard them all gather by the gate latch, breathing heavy and panicking. The gate buzzed a warning tone, and the roar of the saw closed in on them. As one, they burst forth from the gate, narrowly escaping the Billy’s saw; the girl, tugged along by Meg, Ace, and Feng Min. She was practically lifeless in their hands, being half dragged, half carried. Her feet couldn’t seem to catch up with them.

            I followed alongside them, lurking in the shadows. I looked back at the exit gate, caught the eyes of Billy, and emitted a low growl in my throat. I knew he didn’t understand why he was here; it wasn’t hard to tell. But it didn’t make him any less ruthless. Unlike myself, he took pleasure in the death of these survivors. I could never know what Billy endured in his lifetime to make him like that.

            There was a gasp and a heavy thud. The girl had fallen, her feet tangled together as though vines had caught her by the ankles. She wasn’t moving, so I had a chance to get a good look at her, but what I saw made my blood hot. Her hoodie was soaked through, crimson instead of the navy-blue color it was supposed to be. Her hair was wet and sticky, clumping at the base of her neck where the wound began. Where her hoodie was shredded open, there was a mess of muscle, skin, exposed nerves, and blood. So much blood. It pooled in the grooves of her muscles, coated the frayed edges of her skin, turned her exposed vertebrae pink with its thickness.

            Ace finally lifted her, carefully, back to her feet. I knew the Entity would take care of her, heal her muscles and back so she could go back into another Trial, but it still pissed me off to see her like that. As I watched them disappear further into the woods, towards their camp, I found myself wondering, pondering…

            Why in the hell did I care?

*-*-*

            “Evan, what’s gotten into you lately?” I had been lurking at the edge of the Trial fields, pacing distractedly when Philip approached me. Philip, the Wraith, had just left his own trial, of which they all escaped. “You look more lost than Amanda in the corn fields.” He crossed his arms, letting his weapon of choice slip from his hand for a moment. The man came from a pretty twisted life; crushed cars for a living, then found out he was disposing of people in the process. So, he killed his boss, then took his own life, from which the Entity found him and pulled him into this eternity. He was freakishly tall, but I could snap him like a dead twig if I wanted to.

            “The hell do you mean, lost?” It was more of a growl than I intended, but it got my point across. Philip gave me a frown, then extended a hand to me, prompting me to talk. I groaned and slammed the blade of my machete into the dirt, frustrated with my own feelings. “I don’t know.”

            “Does it have anything to do with that girl?”

            “Her name is Farisa.”

            “That’s the name you gave her, not her actual name.” Philip rolled his sightless eyes, then continued, “Evan, she’s a _survivor,_ just like the rest of them. They all run, they all hide, they all will slam pallets in your face. Just give it time, and she’ll be just like them.” I gave him a sideways glare, and he seemed to get this look in his eye, a look I didn’t understand nor like. “Evan, you can’t be serious.”

            “I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” I threw my bear trap down in frustration, the springs and coils bouncing free of the iron contraption. The jaws fell open, broken as the screws snapped apart inside. “I’ve killed them, over and over, bathed in their blood, laughed as they stepped into my traps and shredded their ankles. I’ve sacrificed them to the Entity so many times, walked through these Trials over and over, slaughtering them. Then this! This girl just _appears_ in my trial, passed out in the grass, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring the machete down on her throat. I’ve done it so many times, and just like that, I couldn’t do it.” My hands clasped behind my head as I breathed, heavy, harshly against the inside of my mask. I was trying hard to keep my composure. “So I took her back to my cave, and she… she wasn’t as scared of me as I thought she would be. She was so much more complacent. She didn’t try to run, didn’t try to pull anything… It confused the hell out of me, but I was relieved. I didn’t want her to leave.”

            “Evan…”

            Philip tried to interrupt me, keep me from talking, but there was just so much more I had to say. “My cave felt empty after she left, Philip. _Empty_. I didn’t want to be in that damned crevice anymore, it felt so capacious. And then I heard her screams, Philip. She was screaming.” I grit my teeth, remembering the sound. It still made my blood boil.

            “Evan-”

            “Why the fuck did it piss me off so much!” I was seeing red, my muscles bunched in my shoulder. I yanked my machete from the ground and whipped it into the nearest tree, sinking the blade deep into old trunk.

            _Evan._

Philip and I both froze solid, a chill falling over us. The leaves above us rustled gently, a light frost trickling down the bark towards where we stood. A shadow seeped from the crevices of the bark, reaching towards us with an inky finger. I extended my arm, palm up to accept the shadow, letting it lurch onto my hand and take hold with an icy grip. The Entity sat in my palm for a moment, jiggling in its liquid shadowy form, before solidifying, crunching as bones and muscles formed, and finally feathers. A crow with beady red eyes made its way up my arm and sat upon my shoulder, its feathers ruffled.

            _Your Trial is soon. Michael is almost done._

“Yes.” My eyes caught Philip’s, staring him down, streaming a silent plea to him. Our conversation was over… for now. “Where will my Trial be?” If it was somewhere with ample greenery, I felt tempted to take an extra bear trap or two.

            _The Red Forest, in the Mother’s Dwelling. I think you will like my selection for you. I’m sending the pesky one your way._

Laurie, he means. She always seemed to be in the middle of everything, with some sort of flashlight in tow, and on rare occasions, a syringe filled with stimulant. I grit my teeth into a grin, suddenly feeling better, “Thank you.”

            _Do not disappoint me, Evan._ The crow ruffled its feathers, cawing quietly as it extended its wings. In a burst of feathers and darkness, it sunk in on itself, creating a solidified ball of cold air. I knew better than to assume he was gone; the cold hadn’t left yet.

            I collected my broken trap from the dirt, picking up the springs and coils, then turned back to Philip. “I’m going to go prep for my Trial.” He knew as well as I did that the Entity hadn’t left us. It was watching, suspicious, displeased that Its playthings had other thoughts than murder and bloodlust. I pulled my blade from where it had remained sunken into the tree, then headed into the shadows, towards my cave, to grab supplies.

*-*-*

            Just as promised, I walked into the gates of the Red Forest. The trees towered overhead, older than time itself, reaching endlessly into the sky for a reprieve from the damp of the forest floor. I bent and laid a trap at my feet, making sure to keep it hidden in the grass, before moving on. I passed by the log cabin, thinking, pondering where my next trap should be placed, picking up another on my way to the other side of the map.

            I passed some time roaming the map, checking the generators, confused that I hadn’t seen any of the survivors yet when I heard one of my traps snap shut, followed by the cry of agony. They hadn’t been quick enough to pull their fingers out before the jaws snapped shut. I went to where I had set the trap, only to find it empty. They had gotten away.

            That’s fine, I’ll let them lick their wounds a while…

            The generator on the upstairs balcony of the cabin lit up, roaring to life. My interest piqued, I made my way towards it.

            _Snap!_

A shriek filled the air, and my blood ran cold.

            Farisa.

            What in the hell was she doing here? I paced towards the trap, my heart pounding, my feet heavy on the dirt as I stormed towards it. I was hoping I had heard wrong. As I rounded the corner of the cabin, lights dazzled my vision, distracting me.

            _Laurie_.

            Two pallets slammed into my face and an eternity later, I finally sliced my machete through her back, knocking her onto her front, splaying her in the mud. I bent down, pulling her up and flopping her over my shoulder as I listened to yet another generator pop. I groaned and dropped Laurie onto the closest hook, then made my way towards the generator.

            Another popped, closer to me than the one before. There was one generator left. I wasn’t feeling this Trial like I had been earlier. Instead, I felt tormented. I didn’t know if it was Farisa I had heard screaming or not. My face felt sore from the splinters, and my muscles ached. My machete felt heavy in my hand, too heavy to be swinging, for once. I just wasn’t in a killing mood.

            And then I saw her.

            She stood under the light of the finished generator, stone still, her eyes locked onto me as I locked onto her. She wasn’t moving or making any attempt to move. I could see the blood on her ankle, only barely covered by a quick bandage job. I could see just how pale she looked under the dim yellow light, her expression growing clearer and clearer with every step I took towards her, closing the distance.

            She looked terrified.

            I raised my arm to swing, seeing a chance to strike, to please the Entity…

            And yet, the whole time, she didn’t move. Her eyes were locked onto mine, as though she were looking beyond the mask at me, seeing _me._

            And I knew I couldn’t do it. The machete fell, down past her, missing her by a hair. I could hear another survivor in the bush, screaming at her to move, to do something other than stand there, yet he still stayed hidden himself.

            “Farisa.”

            Her whole body was shaking pitifully. I grit my teeth against this, this _feeling_. I didn’t know what it was, but I didn’t want to feel like this. She was causing me to feel this way, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to end it, end her. I just wanted this intense burning to stop.

            “Go.” I reached towards her, turned her around by the shoulder and pushed softly with the blunt end of my blade. “Just… go.” She didn’t seem to understand or grasp what I was saying. She turned back towards me, eyes wide, but now, not so frightened. Instead, they looked confused, cautiously imploring me for an answer.

            “Evan-”

            “Don’t call me that.” I hissed at hearing my name from her lips. Only killers could call each other by their names. Why, then, did I want to hear it again, spoken by her tongue? My whole body hurt, my veins felt hot, and I could feel my grip on my conscious begin to slip. The Entity would intervene soon if I didn’t please Him. “Just go, Farisa.”

            “But-”

            “ _Go_.” The force behind my words was finally enough to convince her. She turned and ran, disappearing into the trees, just as the final generator powered up the gates. I turned my attention to the shrubbery, where her team mate could just barely be seen squatting, watching, waiting. One of them would not be leaving this match alive…

            And I would be damned if I let her die here.


	6. Chapter 6

            I couldn’t catch my breath. My lungs were burning, desperate for the air that I could barely manage to inhale. My throat felt swollen, tight from the sobs that ripped from my chest. Had I not stood there like an idiot, Quentin wouldn’t have been caught. I could still hear his screams behind me, echoing against the trees, filling the sky with his agonized cries. Somehow, I managed to reach the gate; even blinded by tears, it was hard to mistake the large doors made of rusted sheet-metal.  

            “Farisa!” Jeff caught me by the arm, yanking me back just before I stepped blindly into another rusted trap. “Farisa, get a hold of yourself!” He wasn’t giving me a chance to speak. Where had he even come from? He crouched down, slowly, carefully reached into the trap, and ever so gently tapped the plate. Quickly he yanked his hand back before the jaws could snap shut on his fingers. Heaving a long sigh, he turned his eyes back to me. “We’re almost out of here, just breathe.” He rose to his feet and landed a heavy hand on the door’s lever, yanking it down and sending electricity flowing through the frayed cables. The old red bulbs began to light up, one by one, humming and buzzing with every second that passed by. The doors rattled on their hinges, slowly coming to life.  
            “Where’s Quentin?” We heard her before we saw her; Laurie jogged up to us, worry on her face as she counted who all stood at the gate. She had lost her flashlight, replaced it instead with a roll of scuffed-up parchment. Her clothes, her skin, even her face was coated in a layer of dirt, grime, and blood, a remnant of her chase through the woods with the Trapper on her heels. She looked from Jeff to me, then at the surrounding forest, before a look of realization dawned on her face. “He got caught?” She groaned her annoyance and threw the parchment at me, darting back into the forest. “Stay there! I’ll go get him.”

            “Laurie!” Jeff went after her the second the gate was open, leaving me alone at its open doors.

            What should I do? I trembled there, clutching the roll of paper in my arms, torn between running after them and running through the open gate. I could live, go back to the campfire and curl in on myself while I wait for the next Trial. Or I could go back, rescue Quentin, save him from the same fate that Dwight had faced, the fate that I had otherwise condemned him to. It was my fault he had been captured, anyway. Had I not stood still for so long, he wouldn’t have stayed put to try to save me.

            I had to go back for him.

            I dropped the paper and ran back into the forest, back to where I had seen him last. The further I went into the woods, the more I could hear; crows shrieking overhead, the wind whipping the rain against the trees, the call of a lost, wounded animal. My heartbeat was beginning to pound in my ribs, growing louder the deeper I went. It beat against my chest, screaming its rhythm in my ears as it frantically bounced in my ribcage. Everything in me was screaming to go back to the gates. Yes, I was terrified of what would happen, but I couldn’t just leave him.

            I heard the others before I saw them. Quentin’s voice was strained, agonized. Laurie and Jeff weren’t here yet from what I could see, but I could imagine they wouldn’t be far behind. Evan was close, but not on top of Quentin. I crept closer, watching my step so I didn’t step in another trap but also keeping an eye out to see where Evan would appear. I peered around a tree, just as the large, burly man bent to set one of his rusted contraptions.

            Quentin saw me, and I saw him. He had been lifted off the ground, hung on a blood-stained meat hook haphazardly screwed against a collection of thick branches. Animal hides kept these sticks together, bits of meat and flesh still clinging to the skin. I swallowed nervously, bringing my eyes from the sacrificial hook back to Quentin, where I caught sight of the shadows that collected on the old, dead wood. They stretched towards him, hardening, materializing slowly into slick, monstrous talons.

            If I didn’t hurry, those talons would grab him.

            The Trapper took one last look around the clearing, before taking a few long strides away from Quentin, just far enough out of sight and reach, and still moving further away. It was my chance. I darted out from my hiding place, grunting as I reached and lifted with all the strength I could muster. His body was heavy, the hook barely slipping out of him with the nastiest squelching noise. Quentin collapsed to the ground beside me, hissing in pain, before grabbing hold of me for support. I pulled him forward, forcing him to walk with me until he could manage to walk on his own. Our feet kept slipping in the bloodied mud, unsteady as we did our best to keep moving forward-

            I heard Laurie screaming nearby. Jeff rushed out of the trees and joined me at Quentin’s side, assisting us to the gate. Just as we reached it, the sky erupted, a pulse of red and light rolling over the clouds and dissipating into the distance, the force of the energy making the very earth we stood on tremble. And I knew; Laurie wasn’t coming out with us.

            “We need to go.” Jeff gently took Quentin from me, supporting his weight as the weakened man grunted. I retrieved the paper I had thrown to the ground, a frown adorning my face. My body turned to face them, watching the men turn away and pass through the gates. I wanted to follow them back, make sure Quentin would be okay and wait for Laurie’s return, yet…

            I didn’t follow.

            I waited in the gate, watching as they disappeared into the forest, the trees and shrubs swallowing them up. I couldn’t bring myself to go through that gate, even as I heard him grow closer, closing in on me, just outside of the old brick structure. My feet paced in a small, slow circle, bringing the rest of me around to face him, to see him standing there. My eyes captured his, and we both stood still before each other, waiting in a heavy silence for one another to speak first.

            At last, he was the one to finally break that silence, “Why didn’t you go with them?”

            It hurt to hear his voice now. For a big man like him to sound so small, it was heartbreaking. I knew he was a killer, knew this was what he did with his time. But now, facing him here, I didn’t know what to think or how to feel. I still wanted to believe he wouldn’t hurt me or any of my comrades, even though I knew that all the evidence I could come up with was weighted against seventeen testimonies. I wanted to believe he was the same, gentle man I met in that cave. I didn’t want to see the blood on his hands.

            But here he was, with his shoulders hunched and his skin bloodied, and I still couldn’t find it in me to be afraid of him. I watched him, standing right at the edge of escape, looking back at him. I still hadn’t answered his question.

            “I don’t know.” The answer was a frail whisper, hardly an attempt at telling him what he wanted to hear. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t follow them. I was even more unsure why my feet drew me closer to him, closing the distance. He was so tall, towering overhead of me. “I-”

            “You need to go.” He took a hesitant step back, away from me. His voice sounded rough as he said those words, spitting them like they tasted vile. He turned his head to the side, refusing to look at me. “You belong at the campfire, with them.” As much as I knew I should go, and as much as he begged me to go, something in his voice, his movements, how he refused to look me in the eye… he didn’t really want me to go. And I didn’t want to.

            I reached a hand out, slowly, carefully… I touched the back of his hand, the one that held his blade. He twitched under my fingers, but otherwise didn’t move away. Instead, he seemed to press the back of his hand against my palm, letting me feel his rough, warm skin. His head turned towards me, his eyes catching mine once more. The hazels behind the mask seemed to bore into me, gripping me from the insides and burning through my veins with their depth. I swallowed nervously, using my shaky fingers to pry his hand open, allowing the blade to drop from his grip and hit the ground with a dull clang.

            My heart was beating so hard against my ribs, but I wasn’t afraid. Nervous, yes, but not afraid. At least, not of him. His other hand slowly opened, dropping his remaining bear trap to the grass. And there we were, defenseless to each other, nothing to raise against the other. Just two people trapped in a torturous plane of existence that refused to let its captives rest. The only thing left was the mask, which hid his face and identity from me. I still remembered the strong silhouette of a proud jawline, but the shadows of his cave had been as much a mask as the piece of metal he now wore. Gently, I reached up, my fingertips barely brushing the smooth cheek before he flinched away.

            “Don’t.” His eyes had finally broken away from mine, his hand coming up to take me by the wrist and move my hands away from his face. He seemed to be breathless, and I could feel his pulse jumping in his hand. “I don’t want you to see me. Not like this.” I frowned, beginning to conjure up an argument of some sort, but it was no use. His other hand rose, raising a single finger to be quiet before gesturing ever so slightly towards the trees. I squinted, trying to see what he did; a crow, perched on a low hanging branch, with beady red eyes intent on us. I didn’t really understand, at first, until I felt him pull away from me and retrieve his weaponry from the grass.

            The Entity.

            My blood ran ice cold. How much had It seen? I couldn’t find it in me to move further into the gate. Evan glared once more at the wretched bird and returned to me, pushing against the small of my back with the flat of his blade, forcing my feet to move one in front of the other. He looked back at the bird once more, then leaned in closer to me, just out of Its eyesight. His breath was hot on my neck, his voice gruff, “Farisa, when you see someone like me coming at you, you have to run… alright?”

            “Even if it’s you?”

            He hesitated for a moment, his breath hitching in his chest, before gripping me by the shoulder. “Yes. Even if it’s me. You have to run, and far.” I didn’t like that answer, and I don’t think he did either. “The Entity doesn’t like the survivors and killers mingling like this… You have to understand, Farisa.”

            _You have to understand, *******._

A voice? Not the Entity’s; it didn’t sound like the hollow moan of wind. It was deeper, richer, softer. Whose voice spoke to me so tenderly, easing whatever worries past me had? It made my skin tingle as I reached for that voice, desperate to hear it again, to know who said my name, repeat it so I could really hear it. Who was that?

            What did it say my name was?

            “Farisa?”

            Evan’s voice was right by my ear. I could feel his body heat, radiating against my back. I could sense him hunched over me, close to me, waiting and watching. Slowly, I turned to face him, look back up into those eyes that held so much more to him than what I knew.

            “Evan…” My voice was hardly a whisper. He seemed to be alerted that something was wrong, and I could practically see his frown behind his mask. “Someone said my name. I heard it.” He looked back at the trees behind him, from within the woods, then back at me. “I couldn’t hear what it was, but I know I heard it. Evan, I-”

            “Farisa, you have to go.” He gently took me by the shoulders, pushing softly towards the line that marked the outside world of the Trial. “You can’t stay here. The Entity will get mad if you stay.” I tried to turn back to him, tried to protest, but he was insistent. “You have to go.”

            “No, Evan! I-”

            “ _Go._ ” With one more solid push, I was forced past the escape line. The shadows closed in on the gate, swallowing the bricks, the trees beyond, devouring all in its path until all that was left was Evan, watching me from where the gate once stood, until he too was enveloped by the darkness.

*-*-*

            The trek back to the campfire was a long one, my feet dragging in the dirt. I know I heard something, some sort of voice at the back of my mind. It was hiding somewhere in my subconscious, and I didn’t quite know how to coax it out again. What had it said my name was? I had heard it, mumbled through a wall of static, but I had heard it. I was reaching so far into my head, searching, pleading for that voice to re-emerge, to tell me my name, what I’m doing here, how I got here in the first place, but it just wouldn’t return. It was driving me crazy, not knowing where it had come from, but it couldn’t be helped. I would just have to wait for another fragment.

            My feet had stopped moving. I stood motionless amidst the forest, lost not only in mind but in body too. How long had I been walking? I turned around to see where I had come from, but there was nothing except for the large trees that littered this plane of existence. Shrubbery nearby rustled with the wind, blowing against my already cold face. I was utterly, entirely alone in this plane of existence, with no clue where to go or where I came from. I kept walking and walking, further and further into the woods. The trees were changing, from old redwoods to tall oaks. Ferns and grass reached for the trees, desperate for the sky their woody cousins so lovingly caressed. I reached my hands out to feel the fronds, my feet taking me deeper and deeper into the dark woods. I could feel eyes on me from above, hear the feathers of ruffled wings high in the treetops. I didn’t need to look to know the Entity was watching me.

            “Farisa!”

            I could hear my name being called from the distance. I heard it called again and again, a myriad of voices crying into the darkness, echoing against the bark and stems of the flora. I could see the glow of the fire in the distance, illuminating the trees in warm orange silhouettes. It wasn’t until I saw Jeff and Quentin paused by the edge of the clearing did I break into a full-blown sprint, erupting forth from the overgrowth and into the heat of the clearing.

            Jeff was the first to welcome me, wrapping me in a tight bear hug before holding me at arms-length by the shoulders, “What took you so long? You were right behind us!” He examined me from head to toe, finally accepting that I was okay, and practically forced me to sit by the fire. Quentin soon followed; it seemed he hadn’t tended to his injuries yet. “When we got here and saw you didn’t make it with us, we got worried you had been caught at the gate.”

            I chewed my bottom lip, fighting the stinging sensation in my eyes. I refused to let emotions overwhelm me. “When we were leaving, I heard something. I didn’t know what it was, and I just… I don’t know, I froze.”

            “You froze.” Jeff pinched the bridge of his nose, heaving a great sigh. “Farisa. I know you’re still new to all of this, but you _can’t_ freeze up like that. Especially when the killer is bearing down on you with a bloody machete!” I looked down, feeling a heavy chill on my shoulders and the weight of his disappointment. He knelt down before me, wrenching my attention back to him, “Just… try to keep running next time. Okay?” I gave him a small nod of understanding. “Now, then. What did you hear?”

            “W-well,” I began, struggling to put together my thoughts, “I was at the exit gate, and I heard my name being called. But not ‘Farisa.’ A different one. By a different voice.” At Jeff’s confused face, I felt I needed to elaborate, “It didn’t sound like it came from here, or beyond the walls of the Trial. It didn’t sound like the Entity either. It was a man’s voice, and it sounded like it was pleading with me. It wanted me to understand.”

            “Understand what?” Quentin spoke up this time. His complexion was pallid, a cold sweat dotting his sunken face whilst Claudette stayed knelt beside him with gauze wrap and surgical needles. His clothing was a dark maroon color, heavily stained on his chest and side. I felt a pang of guilt at seeing his wounded state.

            “I don’t know what it wanted me to understand, but it sounded so desperate. And it said my name.” I tried hard to think back to it, grasp at something left behind by that short glimpse of a fragment from my past. It slipped from my grasp like wet glass, cutting me with curiosity as it slit through my clumsy fingers. “I just wish I could remember it.”

            “You’ll remember, just give it time.” Jeff patted my knee, then gestured for Claudette to pass him the gauze. “Now let’s get your ankle fixed up. Laurie will be back with us soon.”

            As Jeff unwrapped the bloody bandages from my ankle, I could feel eyes on me. I turned to see Quentin, staring passively at me. It looked like he had questions burning inside of him, or he was trying to distract himself from whatever pain he was feeling. He almost looked ready to heave at any moment. Carefully, I reached a hand out to him, taking his hand and squeezing lightly, “I’m sorry I got you caught… Thank you, for staying by me. That was very brave.”

            “Don’t mention it.” Quentin’s hand weakly squeezed mine. His palms were clammy, shaky in my grasp. I didn’t let it go until he seemed a little more at ease, resting against the log with his other hand limp over his freshly sutured wounds. In the distance, a low rumble of thunder began to grow.


	7. Chapter 7

            _“You have to understand, *******.”_

 _“What am I supposed to understand!? The hell are you doing with this tramp in_ our _bed? Tell me, Trevor, what am I supposed to understand_ other _than your incapability to keep your pea-sized dick out of things!?”_

_“Well maybe if you weren’t so-”_

_“Don’t you_ dare _pin this on me!”_

_“*******!”_

_I rushed out of that house, the one we had both called home for years. I finally get a lift-off in my career, I finally have enough for the both of us to be comfortable, and he betrays me! My world was crashing down around me, my heart ripped from my chest and shredded into bits. Rough sobs tore from my chest as I made my way to my car, fumbling with the keys the door lock. Finally, I yanked the door open and fell into my seat._

_My eyes rose to the windshield whilst my hand fiddled with the ignition. He was in front of my car now, hands flat on the hood. He looked crazed, possessed even. I noticed the red rash in the crook of his arm and hissed, “Get out of the way, before I call the-”_

_“You’re not calling anyone, sweetheart.” He dangled my cell phone between his thumb and forefinger; I must have dropped it on the way out. “And you’re not going anywhere.”_

_“_ Get out of the way! _” I screamed at my windshield, revving the gas as a threat. Still, he did not budge. I threw the car into reverse, yanking free of his possessive hands. He tried to run into the path of the car, but it didn’t matter. I shoved the gear into drive and sped past him, my tires squealing on the asphalt._

_I could feel the hot tears pouring down my cheeks, fat droplets that dripped from my chin and soaked my paint-stained hoodie. My lungs hurt from sobbing so much. I could barely see through my windshield. Bright lights were fast approaching-_

I sat bolt upright, barely stopping myself from screaming. My heart was beating wildly in my chest, frantic against my ribs that barely contained it. I slowly crept closer to the fire, trying to feel the heat on my face and chase away the chill of the nightmare. I could still feel the scrapes against my skin from the shattered glass, even as my body accepted that I wasn’t there anymore, I was now beside the flames. It had been so vivid, so real. Was that my past that I just saw? I wiped my face, finding fresh tracks of tears on my skin.

            “Is everything okay?” I looked up at the sound of a voice. David was sitting with his bare back to the flames, his eyes trained on me now that I was up. After a brief glance around, I noticed everyone present was sleeping, unmoved by my sudden awakening. “Got up pretty fast.”

            “Bad dream.” I sniffled and used my sleeve to wipe at the tears, making my best attempts to breathe deep and calm down. “But I’m not really sure it was a dream. It felt too real. I don’t know, maybe I’m just stressed out.”

            “You’re still new, they’ll get better with time.” David’s answer wasn’t very sympathetic, but it wasn’t cold either. He knew, at least, what I was talking about. He gazed at me, trying to find more to say, then looked up at the clouded sky. “It’s how we all get our memories back, one way or another. Some of us get here knowing who we are and what we were. Others of us just know our name. This is the first time one of us has come in and not known their name or who they were.” He scratched a few times at the rose tattoo nestled behind his ear, “Did you get that back, at least?”

            “No.” It had been nothing but static when he said my name. “But I learned a little bit more about who I was, I think. I’m not sure which job it was, but I had finally gotten to a good place in life. But I came home late, and he was in bed with some red-headed bimbo. I left him, and then all I saw were headlights.”

            David was quiet, listening intently to what I said. He adjusted himself so he was turned towards me; thank goodness for the fire or he would have seen my cheeks redden at the sight of him. He was nothing but solid muscle, a wide-shouldered frame beautifully adorning chiseled abs and a barrel chest. I shouldn’t be fawning over him like this. “I’m sorry to hear he was a dick to you,” he finally answered, to which I just shrugged softly; it’s not like it mattered anymore. The man before me paused, looking a little more firmly at me, “Y’know what might make you feel better?”

            “What’s that?” He had piqued my interest, and I found myself leaning closer to him. He smirked softly, and his face grew closer to mine, so close I could feel his breath against my skin. The hair raised on the back of my neck, sensing some sort of playful danger from this man.

            “We could go for a walk in the woods, stay close enough that we can still make it back. Whaddya say?” Oh. He wanted to go for a _walk_. I frowned at him and raised a brow, leaning away. Absolutely not. David caught on to my immediate answer, “I’m kidding, I kid, jeez. No fun.”

            “Will you two pipe it down?” Nea’s voice drifted up from nearby the log. After a brief apology was issued, all was quiet again. I saw David resituate himself against the fire, his back once more to the flames, and to me.

            Maybe a walk wasn’t too bad of an idea. Not with him, of course, but by myself. It would give me time to digest the dream, think it over and assemble my thoughts clearly. Quietly, carefully, I rose to my feet and slipped past the sleeping bodies, past the edge of the clearing and into the shadows of the woods. Away from the crackle of the flames, the night was cool on my flushed face, calming down my scattered thoughts and bringing my feverish blood back down to a normal temperature. Yes, a walk was just what I needed.

            I always made sure to stay within sight of the fire’s crackling light, yet I found myself wanting to go deeper, away from the safety of the flames and the survivors that may eavesdrop. The trees were calling me, whispering sweet-nothings, beckoning me down a shadowed path. I could see the moon in the distance, shining softly against leaf foliage and alighting the ground with a silvery hue. With one glance back towards the others, I began to walk the moonlit path, accepting its guiding light and wherever it would lead.

            The oak trees grew older, bigger, the trunks thick and boasting layers of chunky bark. I could see lit barrels in the distance, flames licking at the rims and rusted metal. Log piles and dilapidated brick structures stood silhouetted on the horizon, reminding me of a landscape that I had traveled across once before. Even further in the distance, nestled against a stand of trees, a water tower leaned to one side, its bent legs finding rest against crumbling brick walls. My feet carried me past the structures and trees, past log piles and flame barrels, until I stood at the base of a rocky alcove, covered in shrubbery and thick green moss. I looked closer, feeling the stone slide under my fingers until my hand fell into a dark pit, the opening of a cave.

            Evan.

            I was careful to keep my steps light as I trekked inside, sliding my hand across the wall to keep myself steady. The further I went in, the darker it became, my only guide the cool stones I kept constant contact with and the sound of faint, heavy breathing. It didn’t sound like he had company, but you could never be too careful. I didn’t want to sneak up on him, but I also didn’t want to get caught by whatever else lurked inside if he wasn’t alone.

            Light glowed faintly deep within the cave, illuminating the slick walls. Shadows danced on the stalagmites, the glow of embers refracting out of puddles that dotted the walkways. Faintly, I called into the dark, “Evan?” Nothing but silence and breathing reached my ears, so I crept even closer. I crouched behind one of the rocky outcrops and peered around it, trying to see further within.

            The campfire was unoccupied, its light reflected in the rusted metal of unattended weaponry. His machete was leaning against the stone wall, freshly cleaned and sharpened judging by the sheen along the blade’s edge. Further into the darkness on the other side, I could just barely make out a stockpile of what looked like scrap metal. Further still, a shadow loomed in the dark, and the sound of splashing water could be heard every few seconds. The light of the crackling flames glanced off water droplets hugging his bare flesh, and I could see the curve of his back, rippling cords of hardened muscle and scar tissue flexing with every movement of his arms.

            I blushed hard, turning away and letting my voice slip through my chattering lips, “E-Evan, is now a good time to stop by?” There was a loud splash followed by a surprised grunt, and the image of him rustling around in the dark popped into my head. “I’m sorry for popping in un-announced.”

            “What are you doing here?” I heard the rustle of cloth and the stomp of boots as he dressed himself. “You should be at the campsite.” He didn’t sound angry with me, which was a relief. If anything, the tone of his voice hinted that he was… embarrassed? Could a big, scary, burly man like him get embarrassed?

            “I went for a walk to clear my head and wound up here.” I peered around from the rock again, pleased to see that he was clothed and standing rather awkwardly by the fire. He had even strapped his mask, freshly cleaned of grime and blood, back to his face. I moved from my position, coming out into the open so he could acknowledge my presence. “I hope that’s okay.”

            “Its not, but…” Evan sighed, rubbing his neck and looking about the cave, “I guess you can stay for a little while. Trials don’t start again until the morning.” He waved his hand for me to sit, doing the same on a short, square rock.

            I felt tempted to ask why it wasn’t okay, but I already knew the answer. He stressed it the last time we talked; survivors and killers weren’t meant to mingle. But he was willing to break that rule, even if only for tonight, for which I was grateful. “Thank you.”

            There was quiet in the cave as we both sat close to the flames, close to each other. I felt warm, comfortable here, more so than at the survivor camp. His dark, damp little cave held more solace for me than being surrounded by those who knew what I was going through. At one point I had turned to look at the water that still dotted his freshly cleaned skin, capturing little bits of light and creating little hypnotic gold bubbles. My eyes were starting to feel heavy again, sleep tempting me with its soft seduction. I rubbed my eyes and quietly said, “I was surprised when I saw you weren’t asleep.”

            “Ah, I had to sharpen the machete. It wasn’t swinging as well.” He seemed a little hesitant to answer, as though I would flee from the phrase, but I didn’t budge from my spot. Perhaps after seeing I was still listening intently, he continued, “Besides, it’s not comfortable to sleep with blood caked on your skin.” I could understand that. I wanted to bathe myself but hadn’t found an ample pool of water just yet. His eyes looked me up and down before continuing, “Speaking of sleep, you look like you’re about to fall over.”

            “I had a bad dream that woke me up,” I didn’t have to look at him to feel his curiosity, “and I couldn’t go back to sleep, which is why I went walking. But now that I’m here, I feel… comfortable.” I hesitated in speaking the truth but figured there was nothing to hide from him. He leaned closer to me, prompting an explanation with a gesture of his hand, “This dream, it was… I think it was my past. A man, I think a boyfriend? Anyway, I came home and he was with this other woman, and I left in tears. I didn’t see the other car until its headlights blinded me.”

            “Did he say your name?” The gentleness of his voice surprised me. I didn’t think he could sound so soft and so caring. But one look at my frustrated expression gave him all the answer he needed. “It’ll come to you.” His hand reached for me, paused, then awkwardly patted my head with his large palm. “Don’t try to rush it, that’ll only frustrate you more.” He absentmindedly stroked my hair with his thumb, and I found the sensation calming. I let my eyes close.

            We sat in quiet for a while longer like that, his fingers in my hair and my body slowly relaxing into the temptations of rest. My head bobbed once, twice under his hand and my limbs felt like lead, weighing me down to the cold floor. His hand moved from the top of my head to instead cup around my ear, pulling me to rest against his side. When I looked up at him in question, he looked away and muttered, “Sleep.” It was moments like these I wished he would trust me enough to take his mask off, let me really see his face. I could hardly remember it from our first meeting; he had been so cloaked in shadow, so distrusting of me. I wasn’t sure if he did trust me.

            “This can’t be comfortable for you. You should rest too.” I sat up a little straighter, rubbing my eyes and turning my whole body to face him. He sighed, exasperated, and slid off the rock, sitting instead against the wall of the cave in a pocket of shadow. He gestured for me to lay down, and I did, just a few inches from his side. His hand returned to my hair, and I found myself drifting, further into the darkness, further into the recesses of my mind.

*-*-*

_After weeks of searching, I finally did it. I landed a spot in a local gallery to display my art. My paintings were selling as fast as I could make them, and visitors came to my gallery on the daily. Business owners came to me to ask for murals, for website designs, for any way they can pay for a piece of my art to promote their business. No longer would I have to beg for patrons to buy my art; they were coming to me, and it felt great._

_On this particular day, everything was moving so strangely. The wind seemed to cease blowing, letting the stifling August heat beat down on our city relentlessly. The smog of the buses and constant traffic choked foot traffic on the sidewalks. But even in the brightest of daylight, I saw pitch black shadows creeping in alleys and the bricks of buildings. It felt like there were constant eyes on me, hot on my shoulders; I tried to shake it off, blame it on the sunlight and the summer sun, but I couldn’t shake my unease._

_By late-afternoon, I was finally closing up my little portion of the gallery when the owner approached me. He was a fat little man, always smelling of the pungent wine they served at the painting events and wearing some grape-stained tweed suit. His hair was always oiled against his balding scalp, only making him appear greasier than he already did. “You’re doing great, sweet cheeks. I’ve never had a new artist explode in popularity like you did.”_

_“Thanks, Mister Catswax.” I turned the key in the lock, bolting the door shut. “This has been a dream of mine for so long. The fact that it’s finally coming true is such a boost for me.” I smiled at the door that boasted my name. I stroked the little metal plaque on the door, thumbing the engravings. Subconsciously, I did my best to remember the letters, the curve of the alphabetical characters carved deep into the aluminum. My name, the only one like it, engraved on a plaque to mark my stay and my legacy in this gallery._

_“Yes, well, so long as you keep up on the gallery rent, it’s yours for as long as you want.” The little man grinned, showing off yellowing teeth. “However, you can always pay me in other ways too.” He gave me a little wink and clucked his tongue._

_I rolled my eyes, knowing exactly what he meant, but I knew better than to react to that. After suppressing a shudder and fighting the roll of my stomach, I replied curtly, “Well, I can draw up some business art for your gallery, if that’s what you mean. I really should be heading home, though. Trevor should have dinner ready soon.”_

_The scenery blurred by, obscured by a wide steering wheel and the blare of white and red lights against the setting sun. I pulled up to my home, a cute little townhouse with wrought-iron railings framing the porch, where the same scene unfolded. Clothes thrown around our house, a strange naked woman strewn across my bedsheets, Trevor over top of her with his pants around his ankles. He begged me to understand, to stay and listen, but there was nothing else to understand._

_Enraged, I left him. I left the house behind me, I left him behind me, all I had left for myself was my art. That’s all I could count on-_

_Headlights blinded me. I yanked the steering wheel hard right._

_The car came to an abrupt stop, but I kept moving forward through the darkness._

_B-bmp… b-bmp… b-bmp…_

            I woke up, the same as I had before. Bolt upright in a cold sweat, the hair raised on the back of my neck. My heart was pulsing in my chest, pain bursting through me with every beat against my ribs. I felt sick to my stomach, like I could heave at any moment. This was worse than before; overloaded by memories, my body couldn’t handle the sudden shock. I crawled towards the fire for some sense of relief from the chill that wrapped its icy claws around my throat.

            My breathing echoed against the cave walls, bouncing around, haunting the very air with my wheezing. I could only moan as I crumbled back to the floor. Only a brief moment later, I felt a hot hand on my back, sensed rather than saw a shape hunched over me. His breathing suggested he was talking; why couldn’t I hear him?

            “…isa?”

            “I-I’m sorry, I just…” I sounded so broken. “I…” What was I trying to say? I had nothing to say. My nightmare- no, my past had fallen into place, re-awakening memories in me that I had kept locked away. But not all. I was missing a piece. A chunk of ice kept it locked away from me in the deepest reaches of my mind, hissing and swiping away my thoughts whenever I ventured too close to that one, precious fragment. I needed that piece, and I couldn’t have it.

            Everything was getting darker, my panic rising and my hearing fading. It was getting colder in the cave, even though the flames of the fire still crackle and burn. My body curled up, fetal, begging for the cold to unhinge itself from me.  

            “Breathe.”

            _Breathe, *******._

Why can’t I breathe?

            “I can’t, Evan…” My hand clawed at my throat, a feeble attempt to loosen the ice-like vice. It was getting colder, darker, I couldn’t breathe…

            _My Trapper… what sort of rabbit have you caught today?_

What sound was that? It sounded warbled, as though wind were passing through dilapidated fan blades. I couldn’t make out what it was, but it seemed to be some form of speech, of words I wasn’t supposed to hear.

“Farisa…”

            I couldn’t see him. He sounded so hurt, agonized by whatever it was that he knew that I didn’t. My vision was getting darker by the second, my lungs were screaming at me. The gentle clang of metal alerted me to something wrong, very wrong. The air grew thick, tense, a mixture of anguish and agony.

            “Evan, please, no-”

            “I’m sorry.”

            I heard his machete cut through the air, just before my vision and my senses went black.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Author here! So, I'm updating the next chapter just a tiny bit early this week because heyo, FINALS WEEK! Hope you guys enjoy this one!

            I killed her.

            There was no other way it could have gone, and it had to be done by my hands. The Entity would have made her suffer for far longer had I not ended her suffering when I did. Even as I had moved to bring my blade high over my head, my arm had rejected my wishes, fought against me, refusing to bring down the tempered steel to sever her neck. I looked down at her corpse, lifeless before me, soaking in a pool of crimson. The severance of her neck, between neck and body, was a clean one, cutting through bone and sinews with almost surgical precision. And I had done it with a single, heavy handed swing. Her eyes were still open wide to the shock.

            _I didn’t realize you were one to play with your prey, Trapper. How… distasteful._

I grit my teeth against Its harsh whisper, and the cold touch It laid upon my broad shoulders. I could only watch the spikes of the Entity rise from the floor, blooming forth from her mortality and absorb her. They pulled her apart, hungry for her carrion, shredding her muscles away from her bones and making a mess of her corpse, until all that remained of her was the bloody puddle. But even that sunk into the earth, bubbling into the stones until nothing of her was left. She would be on her way back to the campfire now.

            “Why are you here?”

            _So angry. With me? Trapper, you would be wise to remember who you are, and who you serve._ Its icy claws sunk into my shoulders, wrapping Its chill around the metal that it had struck me with eons ago. Even now these pieces of scrap were a part of me, marking me, condemning me to this forsaken Hellscape and serving as a reminder to the day the Entity chose me. _There are you killers, blessed with my gifts, thriving in this plane to quench your bloodlust. And then there are the survivors, the methods to your madness, the sheep to cull for the sake of your thirst. I have been kind to that new one you seem to favor so much… She’s only been in two trials, against yourself and Billy. But I think it’s time she understands where she is, don’t you?_

I refused to answer. I knew anything I said now could only hurt her in the future. It was merciless when it came to organizing Trials. One wrong word, a slip of the tongue, and she would face the Entity’s most prized being. A man of stealth, of power, and of pure, unwavering bloodlust. A man every survivor trembled at the name of. A man whose fellow killers knew to avoid.

            _I was thinking, perhaps she’s ready to face more of your comrades. After she heals from being beheaded, of course, thanks to you._ The chill of the Entity’s claws sunk into my core, painfully icy, wrapping tight around the shrapnel. _Maybe Wraith would be good for her, give her a fright. Or perhaps the Nurse. What do you think, Trapper?_ The shadow of the demon yanked on the largest piece of metal that protruded from my shoulder, shaking me for an answer. _Or should I feed her to the Shape?_

“Wraith.” I managed to hiss through clenched teeth. “Put her against the Wraith.” The fiend wrapped Itself tighter around my shoulders, securing me in Its clutches with a claw at my throat. I could feel It against my skin, an all-too-familiar chill, aggressively coarse though it seemed to have no tangible texture. I couldn’t move against It, or it would be my- no, her downfall.

            And then It released me, slithering back into the shadows of my home. I could feel It watching me, poised, a snake ready to strike. _Your Trial is in Springwood… Do not disappoint me again, Trapper._ The air warmed in the cave as the fiend made Its exit, sinking into the stones where Farisa had once laid side by side with me.

            I let the quiet fill the small cave, catching my breath and my thoughts. Why did I let her stay? I knew full well that we would both be in major trouble if I let her, but I allowed her to anyway. She had looked so lost and wounded, a face I used to adore on the faces of survivors. I remember longing for my Trials, anxious to feel my machete cleave through their flesh and their blood spatter my skin. I once felt nothing but lust and power from the demise of their ilk. And then this runt of a girl appears, and everything becomes so confusing. I want to see the others die at my hands, choke their breath from their lungs and drain their veins of that precious mortality they so desperately cling to. I want to hang them on meat hooks, cut their bellies wide open and watch as their gizzards fall from their bodies to collect in the dirt for the crows. I want to be the source of their misery, crunch their bones into dust and feed them to the Entity that granted me the gift of endless bloodlust.

            I didn’t feel any of that when I brought that blade down on her neck. Instead, I just felt anguished, angered not at her but at myself, for letting her become just another victim on the pile. What was I other than a bloodthirsty killing machine? My first thought on how to protect her, to keep her from suffering by the Entity’s claws, was to end her where she lay. No words other than “I’m sorry” could be spoken, and I knew that would never be enough for her.

            I flung my machete across the cave, listening to it clang and ring against the stones. I felt so agitated, pacing around my small makeshift home. The walls felt too close for comfort, listening to my thoughts, reaching for the emotions that tumbled and rolled in my chest. I felt as though the Entity was still here even though I knew he wasn’t. Its presence was unnerving, making my head buzz with uncontrolled fervor.

            Heaving a deep, heavy breath, I retrieved my machete from the stone floor, and a trap from the nearby stockpile. It was almost time for the Trial, and I needed to be there.

*-*-*

            My head was pounding, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t deal with. I could practically taste the splinters in my mouth, piercing my lips and aggravating my scarred flesh. I raised a hand under my mask, wiping at the wooden picks and snatching them away. There were so many pallets in Haddonfield, and it seemed like the Entity had placed more just for my displeasure. And of course, Laurie had been placed once again in my Trial, accompanied by Claudette, Jake, and to my surprise, Quentin. It hadn’t been long since our last Trial, and he still appeared a little shaken from before.

            I had chased Laurie in circles until finally I was forced to give up when three generators revved to life. Of course, shortly after leaving her I happened across Quentin, and for some odd, cruel reason, I wanted him dead. My blood was boiling, every muscle and sinew in my body screeching to feel his bones crunch under the pressure of my traps. I longed to filet his flesh from his ribs, marinate the meat in his blood to feed the Entity’s hellhounds. I managed to catch him in a well-placed trap around a dilapidated shack in the corner of the area, to which I made sure he couldn’t rise if he were to break free. The bloodied man whimpered like a child as he crawled away from me, towards yet another pallet standing upright in the doorway, but I wasn’t allowing it. I snatched him by the ankle and yanked him back to me, dragging him through the grass and pressing the edge of my blade against his spinal column.

            “Tell me,” I knelt slowly, using my free hand to wrench his chin up so I could see his face, “did Farisa return to the fire?” A brief glance of confusion crossed his dark eyes. Frustration flared inside of me, and I bashed his face into the dirt, once, twice, until he bled by the nose and his lip busted open. “Did she return to the fire?”

            “N-no.” Quentin’s blood was choking him, pouring from his face in thick rivulets. “We haven’t seen her since last night, I swear!” He sputtered as I bashed his head once more against the ground before I finally released him, rising back to my feet and hefting him onto my shoulder. He wriggled and writhed, beating his fists against my back and kicking at my stomach, trying his best to break free from me, but it wouldn’t happen. I felt my rage and agitation boiling inside of me, making me pick up my pace and strengthen my grip into an iron vice. I wanted this Trial over with.  

            Screams rung out against the skies as the final generator popped. Quentin, my only victim, left for dead by his comrades. I hung him on the nearest meat hook, the cursed rusted metal tied with steel cable to a collection of plumbing pipes. I turned from him, beginning to head towards the gates, when I heard him stutter, “Why are you so interested in her?”

            Why?

            I turned slowly back to him, locking eyes with him and approaching until I was face to face with the wounded man. The edge of my blade came to his throat, threatening a quicker death, as I hissed the words, “Who the fuck wants to know?” The thin, sleek metal pierced his skin, and a single drop of blood rolled down its length. “’Cuz its none of your business, or anyone else’s.” Quentin whimpered under the pressure, choking on more and more blood.

            “Hey dipshit!”

            I groaned, rolling my eyes and turning slowly to face the older woman standing in the street. She had a hand on one hip, a flashlight in the other, glaring down at me with steel-grey eyes. “The hell do you want?”

            “I want you to leave him alone, that’s what.” She raised her flashlight and flicked the lever a few times, the bulb shining its beam into the sky and my own eyes. As I took a step towards her, she took one step back. With every step we went further into the street, bearing down on her; nearby, the gates were open, and she was backing up towards them, ducking between a chain-link fence and a collection of garbage bins.

            Her foot stumbled. In a flash, my machete was at her neck, bearing down and cleaving right through her collarbone. She was downed in an instant, bleeding out on the cold pavement. I saw Quentin rush past, followed by Jake and Claudette, but I didn’t care. Bloodlust turned my glare an astonishing shade of red, bathing her in crimson. My blade came down, over and over, ripping through her body and sending blood spattering against the road, the bins, dripping from the chains of the fence. I dealt lash upon lash until she stopped moving, and even then, I didn’t stop until my arm felt too heavy to swing anymore. Every ounce of me had gone into her beating, her death, all of my frustrations and regrets.

            I had to forget about her. Things needed to go back to how they were, before she arrived. I couldn’t keep treating her like she wasn’t like the rest of them. She was exactly like the rest of them; pathetic, weak, cunning and quick. It would only be a matter of time before she got the hang of things, and my presence to her would become just like all the others of my ilk; harbingers of death and decay, creatures and monsters with an unending thirst for blood.

            I heard footsteps.

            I raised my blade again, wary, as Quentin stood before me. In a brief state of alarm, he took a hesitant step back, raising his hands in surrender to me. What in the hell was he doing? I beat the absolute shit out of him, and here he stood like some doped up teenager looking for his dealer. “Look… I don’t know what it is about her that’s got you so… well, worked up. But-!” He held up his hands again, flinching when I threatened him with my blade, “But… when I get back, I’ll make sure she’s taken care of… I don’t know what it is between you two, but I can at least promise you that.”

            “Why the hell do you care?” I spat the words with contempt. “You’re a survivor. Get the hell out of here.”

            “My assumption is that in some crazy circumstance, you ended up killing her. And she’s never died before, at least not in this hellscape.” Quentin’s tone was matter of fact, irritatingly smug. He was ignoring my threats, “What’s worse, she died by _your_ hands. I can only imagine how she’ll be when we get her back.” He looked back at the gate, seeming to think for a moment, then returned his eyes to me.

            “I will make you crawl to that damned exit if I have to. Or should I put you back on the hook?” That finally made Quentin back off again towards the gate, and the stench of fear wafted into the air. One, two, three heavy steps towards him later, he was within the safety of the brick gate, so close to the line of escape. “Now go… Just, go.”

*-*-*

            I didn’t want to return to my cave, not yet. The stone would still smell of her blood and tears, poisoning the air with my betrayal. Even my blade remembered the feel of cleaving clean through her unguarded throat. Thoughts still rolled through my mind, unwanted whispers of what I could have done, what I shouldn’t have done, and what the Entity would’ve done with her had I not ended her with my own blade. It was bad enough the damned demon believed I was fraternizing with her kind…

            But wasn’t that what I was doing?

            The weight of the realization crashed down on me. I never felt any desire to use my rusted machete against her, even when I’ve done it countless times to the others. I’ve bled Feng Min dry a thousand times, stripped the flesh from Dwight’s bones, crushed Meg until she choked on her own blood and her ribs punctured her lungs. I _enjoyed_ ending their pathetic lives. And now she’s in this realm, fresh meat ripe for death, innocent to the ways the Entity has forced on her comrades. My blade rose once against her, to strike her down into the dirt and dust of the Redwood Forest, and the look of her eyes froze me solid.

            My feet were moving, quickly, rushing through the deep woods that surrounded the different realms of the Trials. I could barely see the birch trees in the distance, home to the Coldwind Farms. Further to the east, maple trees surrounded the chapel and asylum. To the west, I could see the lights from Haddonfield, and behind me was Springwood. Beyond them, further behind the houses and school yards, the hospital stood, decrepit in the moonshine, and just beside it stood the run-down warehouse. North, ahead of me, was the Macmillan Estate, the final border between the Trials and the Survivors’ safe place. The smoke of their fire could always be seen in the sky, feeding the rumbling of the clouds and serving as a beacon for the Entity’s wisps to return the dead to their rest. Even now it was dark against the yellow sky.

            I was at the edge of their camp before I knew it, watching them bustle around in a hurry. For once, every single survivor was at the camp, searching through a stockpile of little red medical kits and a tall pile of gauze rolls or bustled around the campfire in such a dark clump, I could hardly see through it. If I wasn’t condemned to the shadows, I would step out of the trees and go to them, see what it was they were so worked up about. But it didn’t take me long to see.

            There she was.

            David had her in his lap, holding her head carefully while Claudette weaved surgical thread through her skin, crisscrossing with such precision that there wasn’t a visible seam from where I was standing. Usually, survivors were healed all the way before they came back here… I felt cold, watching their hands sew shut the wound I had made. And just for a moment, I saw her eyes open, staring distantly, straight past them, past the trees and the shadows, and locked with me.

            “Don’t look at me like that,” The whisper escaped my lips, but her eyes never wavered. They held onto me, fixating me with their emptiness. Soft eyes that once held hope and light, now dull with pain and despair. “You were suffering. I had to do it.” I knew she couldn’t hear me, but I spoke the words anyway. “We don’t belong-”

            “Trapper.”

            I snapped my head left. Just within the light of the clearing, glaring up at me with such hatred, was none other than Nea Karlsson. She was always filled with never-ending spite, for her comrades and for killers. In fact, she was often leading us on wild goose chases through the maps until she runs us across her fellows on generator. My brow furrowed, irritated with her vehemence. “Nea.”

            “The hell you doing here? Go back to your cave.” She crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her foot expectantly. “You’re not welcome here.” Beyond her, the others had begun to turn their heads, looking first at Nea, then brought their eyes to my silhouette. All at once an unnerving sense of discomfort floated towards me.

            “Go.” Feng Min stepped forth from the group, a flashlight tight in her grip. Dwight stood by her side as well, with a surprising item; a roll of parchment, tightly packed around a collection of powder. If he were to drop that, lights would explode in every direction. Lights couldn’t hurt me, but they were an absolute nuisance, and they knew this. “I don’t know what it is that keeps bringing you back here, but you need to stop. You’re not welcome here.”

            My eyes drifted from face to face, pausing once on Quentin’s face as he mouthed, “She’s okay,” before finally resting once more on her face. Her eyes had shut now, her face placid and drenched in sweat. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her anymore.

            I returned to the isolated woods.


	9. Chapter 9

            _“*******!”_

_I heard my name echoing, reverberating in my skull. Everything was dark but for a small sliver, dully shining against the black depths of the void. Flashes of deep red lit up the darkness, arcing as sharp lightning strikes that coiled and clashed against the black of my mental recesses. I tried moving towards that tiny fragment of light, but every step forward was another step back, the distance only growing with every step I took. My pace quickened to a sprint, my lungs protesting with every breath I took. That sliver only grew smaller, until it was only the tiniest spec amongst a backdrop of chaos._

_The red rumbled and took over the sky, reaching sharp, sleek claws towards me. It was too late to run away, so I kept charging forward, my skin hot with every slice of the piercing pikes reaching from the deadly sky. My hand launched forwards towards the speck, desperate, when I felt my body lifted away from it, soaring higher and higher into the sky, elevated by the danger that shoved its way through my guts. I looked up in time to see a pair of hellishly red eyes staring down into my soul._

My eyes flew open.

            It took a moment for me to adjust, recognizing first the warmly lit clearing, then the bodies that idled in spots here and there. The crackle of the fire was the only sound, the smell of burning wood and dew wafting in the air in a puff of smoke. Finally, I felt warmth, encompassing me in a loose embrace. I was back in the survivor camp, away from the MacMillan Estate and the man that paroled its grounds with a bloody machete.

            A machete now stained with my blood.

            A wretched sob broke from my chest, surprising whoever it was that held me. Evan had struck me down, slashed his way through my neck as though it were nothing more than a stick of butter. I had thought we were more than that, close enough not to raise a hand against one another.

            No. He was not a man, not gentle like he led me to believe or as caring as he had shown me. He was a bloodthirsty killer, stockpiling weaponry and scrap with full intention to turn it against us. I should have known better than to place trust in him. I trusted him, and just like that he ended me at my weakest moment. I was down, and he took full advantage of that. The Entity chose him for a reason; bloodthirst, rage, strength and power enough to knock down those before him. He didn’t even need to chase me for that to happen, I just stupidly walked into his cave and handed myself over on a silver platter.

            He could have done all this from the beginning though, right? I could have woken up at the survivor camp from the start, but instead I awoke to him that day. I spent hours with him, talking on even grounds. He _protected_ me from the Wraith when he visited. We went into a Trial, pitted against each other, and he let me go when he could have just as easily ended me on the spot. So why, then, did he choose to swing that rusted blade in that moment?

            The arms around me tightened, pulling my rampant thoughts out of my head and back to reality. My broken pieces clipped together, sharp in my ribs, jabbing my heart with jagged edges laced with uncertain betrayal. I looked up to see who it was, who attempted to hold my shattered mentality together as I lay breaking, to see a bearded David looking down upon my tear-soaked face. He pressed his lips together, thinking on the right words to say, but came up empty and remained silent instead. That was fine… his embrace was enough.

            It was a while before I finally began to calm down, to the point of numb silence against his warm chest. His hand stroked through my hair once, twice, before finally letting his voice rumble, “Where did you go?” I looked up to his cautiously curious face, though I could still see the glint of worry in his dark brown eyes.

            “I went for a walk,” My reply was quiet, uncertain on how much I should tell him, but the words spilled before I could dam them up, “and I ended up in the MacMillan Estate. I thought I would visit E… the Trapper, but-”

            “He mori’d you.”

            “He what?”

            “Mori’d.” David repeated the unknown word, a strangely beautiful term that rolled off the tongue. “It means that he killed you with his own blade rather than hang you up on those accursed hooks. It’s not uncommon for Killers to bring one into Trials against those of us they don’t particularly like. Laurie is usually a lead target.” At this, he looked over to the blonde, perched on one of the three logs placed around the fire. “They look like a skull. If you see one on their belt, make sure you’re careful to look at what color the skulls are.”

            When I gave him a confused look, he explained even more than I knew was possible. These mori’s were made to look like skulls, and if the engravings were etched in yellow, the killer could only kill the very last living survivor in the match. If the etchings were green or pink, then he needed to hook a survivor once before he could kill the survivor. The only difference between the two was that green meant he could only do so to one survivor. A pink-etched skull meant he could mori all four survivors after each one has been placed upon a hook. David went on to say that killers had more than just mori’s that they could bring in; cut coins, wreaths made of a variety of thorns, and rotting oak branches gave the killers some advantage in the Trials.

            On the other hand, survivors have offerings for the Entity as well, to which David explained, “Salt pouches like these,” he held one such pouch in his hand, “can influence the Entity to give us better items from loot boxes. Coins will give us more loot boxes in a Trial. Then we have these.” He set the salt pouch down amongst a pile of various items, and instead pulled out a scrap of fabric. Knots were tied at every corner, “This is a shroud of union. The Entity takes this and promises that it will start the Trial with everyone together.”

            “But we don’t have items to prevent us from getting mori’d?” I frowned at him, taking the shroud from his hands. The fabric was soft, supple, and pleasant to the touch. I didn’t want to let it go. “And… wait, what are these?” I reached in, grabbing something incredibly unpleasant. It was a hand, stark white with a spiked, open circle carved into the palm. I dropped it immediately, fighting back a disgusted scream.

            “That’s a white ward.” David didn’t seem fazed as he picked it back up, pushing it under the pile. “The Entity will preserve the item we take into the Trial. So long as we die with it in our hand, we keep it.” He quickly reorganized the bits and pieces he had pulled out of the pile, then brushed off his hands. “Anyway… Enough about offerings and bullshit. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

            As if on command, my belly roared at the premise. “I guess a bite wouldn’t hurt.”

 

*-*-*

            Everything went black after that bite of food, the scenery whirring by at an unsteady pace. I was being dragged through the woods again, carried away by the grasp of the Entity. The air grew colder by the second, dropping by tens of degrees until resting at below freezing. The Entity drew me further into the air before tossing me carelessly into a snowbank, then dissipated into the wind.

            Where in the hell was I now? I could see dilapidated ski lifts, an old, broken down ski lodge, plenty of rocks and snow combines, and lots of snow. I shivered, forcing myself to stand on unsteady, numb feet, and began walking to who knows where. I hadn’t been in many Trials by this point, but I knew well enough what to look for. My eyes looked towards the sky, briefly focusing on the flickering lights of a generator, before looking back to the ground.

            A stand of bones and skulls stood tucked against a stone, flames licking the underside, tasting the teeth and marrow. I knelt in the snow, inspecting it, gently feeling the skull; it was warm to the touch, and I got the overwhelming sense that this little item was dangerous. Looking closer, I found the twine that held all of it together, tangled from bone to bone and weaved between teeth and eye sockets. Carefully, slowly, I pulled on one end, and the item fell apart-

            Pain blossomed in the crook of my neck just as I heard the metallic swish of metal rocketing through the air. I cried out and set off in a sprint towards the generator, crouching low beside it for cover as I inspected my wound. It wasn’t deep, just bleeding. Whatever had flown at me had barely grazed me, but it was enough. My scent was in the air, pain and fear mixing with the thick smell of copper and zinc. The hum of my heart beating in my chest and the hum of a low, melodic voice filled my frozen-tipped ears.

            “Farisa,” Someone whispered my name. I turned slowly, wincing at the pain it caused, to see Dwight in the frame of a busted-out window, placed in a wall of snowy wooden beams. He waved for me to move towards him, “keep low, move slow.” I peered around the generator again, trying to find the source of the humming, before beginning towards the man, crawling carefully through the window vault. “Oh Farisa, your neck. Hold still…” He tore a strip of cloth from his untucked shirt, using it to staunch the bleeding. “Its not much, but it’ll hold for now.”

            “Thank you.” I stayed close to him, carefully looking left and right as the humming faded. “Who is that?”

            “The Huntress.” Dwight took me by the hand and pulled for me to follow. “She throws hatchets, and if you’re too close she’s got a battleax she swings. She’s incredibly intimidating.” He didn’t sound intimidated at all, though. Perhaps he had some odd thing for her? Then again, I didn’t have room to talk. Evan briefly flashed through my mind, and I had to force myself to shake away the thoughts just as he spoke again, “Were you the one who destroyed that totem?”

            “The glowing skulls? Yeah.”

            “You two, come here!” A harsh whisper surprised both of us, but even more surprising was the shirtless David on the generator. “If we grind this out real fast, we can jump on the one Adam has going in the lodge.” He didn’t even look remotely cold, even though fog replaced his breath.

            Humming filled the air again. Was it safe? My heartbeat was still steady, so she wasn’t on top of us, at least not yet. I knelt by the generator, peering inside the mechanisms. The wires were twisted, frozen foliage clogged the gears, and old, dusty oil corroded the metal. I frowned at the work we had ahead of us, jamming my hand inside to pull out a few stones and a clump of frozen snow. “Hey Dwight, what’s a totem?” I glanced to my left, where he was cleaning out debris on his side of the machine.

“It’s a power that the Entity gives to the killers.” Dwight dropped a clump of sod onto the ground beside him. “Those things are put up when the killer has a hex, which calls the Entity down to intervene in a trial. It’s good that you destroyed it.” I nodded my hand as I reached in and pulled out another wad of dark filth. I must have pulled on a wire by accident, causing sparks to fly and the generator to pop and fizz in my face. I flinched away, shielding my face and falling on my rear.

            “Shit…” David hissed, trying to work quickly through the wires. “Hurry, get back on it, before-”

            A hatchet swung through the air and slammed into the generator, narrowly missing both of our faces. She was coming, her humming low and growing louder. It was hauntingly beautiful, making the scenery too serene for what we knew was coming. I heard her footsteps, her breath, her grip on a huge battle axe.

            _B-bmp b-bmp b-bmp-_

She was tall, wild, and beautiful. Her bare feet slapped into the snow, her clothes hung neatly on her muscular frame, and a mask shaped into a rabbit covered her face. I could see the glint of the sky reflecting in her eyes behind the mask, bringing out the bloodlust and hatred that she harbored. A veil attached to her mask flowed down her back, a bride to nature itself.

            Her eyes locked onto the three of us at the generator. Her hand rose, readying another hatchet.

            The generator roared to life just as we darted away from it, narrowly avoiding the projectile. David growled, pushing my body towards Dwight and hissing, “Go join Adam, I got her.”

            “But-”

            “ _Go._ ”

            “Come on,” Dwight grabbed my arm and tugged me away, further from the bare man and the woman that towered at least two feet taller than him. My only hope was that he would be okay as we moved into the lodge, further away from them.

            “This way,” I saw the dark-skinned man, Adam, working diligently on the generator tucked against the staircase. At his back, a sitting area with a firepit nestled in the floor, surrounded by garbage, empty boxes, rotting corpses and blood stains. I averted my eyes, swallowing bile and setting to work on the generator, doing my best to ignore the constant sounds of tempered steel cutting through the air.

            Adam, Dwight, and I managed to push through the five generators on our own. Not once did we hear a sound from David, only the sounds of metal cutting through nothing and the Huntress’s constant humming. Only when we finished the last generator did we finally hear the steel connect and David’s agonized screaming. I turned to face the noise, trembling at the premise of his death, my own flashing before my eyes.

            “We’ll rescue him,” Dwight assured, placing a hand on my shoulder. “But we need to open the gates first. Adam?” He looked at the man who had his hand on the lever. After the last generator had been powered, we had made our way towards the light of the nearest gate. Escape was there, so close, but not yet. David screamed again, reminding me of what had to be done. Adam let go of the lever as the rusted metal rattled open.

            I began to move deeper into the map, away from the gate, “Let’s go, then-!”

            “No! Farisa, you stay here.” Adam caught me by the wrist and yanked back hard, then pushed me by the shoulders into the brick structure of the exit gate. “You need to stay here. If she comes to you, you can run out the gate. It will give us enough time to get David down and out. Do you understand?” Adam waited until I finally ceded defeat and nodded. He reached into his pocket, turning back towards the lodge with Dwight by his side.

            No sooner had I turned my back to the map when I heard a stone lash against the bricks, chipping a piece of the bisque clay from the structure. What the hell was that? I turned back towards Adam and Dwight just as they disappeared.

            The humming filled the air again. Whatever they had thrown alerted her that I was here, a diversion so Dwight and Adam could sneak closer to David. I swallowed hard, watching the monstrous woman appear in the distance, getting clearer with every wide step she made towards me. It wasn’t long before I could see the murderous intent in her eyes and the blood splatter across her otherwise white mask.

            I inhaled a shaky breath, unmoving, trapped by her sheer presence as she moved ever closer. Her breath fogged the air whilst she raised her battle axe high above her head in preparation to swing. But I was moving before she could even bring it down, darting left away from her axe’s path; she surprised me by slamming me sideways with the flat side of the cruel weapon. I went sprawling against the brick wall, my ears ringing from the impact.

            Her hand seized me by the throat before I could gather my bearings, lifting me high into the air for only three short breaths. Then, she slammed me against the brick structure, making sure to scrape my flesh against the rough brick. She brought her face closer to mine and the intense stench of rot, decay, and old blood filled my nostrils, forcing me to gag and choke in her hold. A chuckle rumbled from her throat, “So you’re the new blood… I don’t know what he sees in you.” Her voice was rich, low, and sultry with a rumble of consonant sounds. She sounded as though she swallowed her vowels, creating a richly exotic thickness with every word she spoke. “All I see is a pathetic rabbit. Maybe that’s why he named you the way he did.”

            Evan?

            “L-let me-”

            “Go?” The Huntress cut me off, squeezing harder on my trachea. I gasped hoarsely as my breath was crushed out of me. My feet lashed out in feeble kicks and my hands clawed at her arm, but her inhuman strength had me trapped against the chilled wall. “You’re so close to the exit. I’ll let you go. But I want to play.”

            “Play?”

            A dark look shadowed her gaze as a twisted grin warped her lips. She pulled me away from the wall, then bashed me again into it, over and over and over again. Blood spewed from my lips, my insides felt pulpy, and my vision was getting fuzzy. Shadows and lights dazzled my vision, dark bloodthirsty eyes flickering like madness in front of my eyes. The rabbit-masked beast snarled the words, “learn your place. These Trials aren’t fun and games, kid. And we killers are not your friends. The Trapper may have some semblance of pity for you lot, but the rest of us?” She dropped me to the grass, letting me sputter and gasp only for a single breath before she kicked me harshly in the ribs. “You’re nothing but prey to us.”

            _“It’s an Arabic word. One of its translations is ‘prey.’”_

Bill’s words came racing back to me. My name, its meaning, and what that made me in relation to Evan. Nothing more than mere prey.

            “E-Evan-”

            Another blow to my ribs made my stomach revolt. “That’s ‘Trapper’ to you.” The woman knelt over me, gripping me by the hair so she could pull and spit into my face, “You’ve no right to be calling him by name. Haven’t you learned?” Her free hand dragged across my throat, reminding me of the scar that wrapped around my neck. I trembled at her touch, tempting a hoarse laugh from the beastly woman, “Or maybe he likes to keep you around because you’re stupid?”

            “Farisa!”

            I heard Dwight’s voice, calling out to me. I tried to look, but she bashed my face down into the dirt, “Learn your place, little rabbit. Next time, I won’t be so kind.” The weight lifted from my skull, and she was gone, padding away with wrathful vengeance towards where Dwight’s voice had come from.

            The three men had managed to sneak past her, now at my side as I choked on my own blood. They reached for me, pulling me to my feet as I sputtered the words, “I’m fine, I’m fine, lets just go.” I wiped the blood from my mouth, my nose crinkling at the sting in my throat and the stench that still hung in the air. My feet started unsteadily towards the door, my toes numb from the cold; I wish the rest of me were as numb as my toes.

            “What did she do to you?” David caught me by the elbow, twisting me around so he could look at my bloodied face. I wrenched my arm free of his grip, giving him a hard stare, then immediately relented. He was in worse shape than I was. A gaping hole in his shoulder, the blood congealed around the frayed and exposed muscle. I could see the tip of a laceration on his shoulder, and knew it stretched further down his back than what I saw.

            “I’m sorry,” I managed to say, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, “She just kicked me around a little bit. Something about fresh meat.” He seemed satisfied with the answer, so I left it at that. “Let’s just go back to the fire and recover. It’s freezing out here.”


	10. Chapter 10

            “Well you two look horrid.” Feng Min greeted our group at the edge of the clearing. “I take it the Trial wasn’t too terrible, then?” Behind her, the others were bustling around, moving from the medical kit stockpile to the toolbox stockpile, back and forth with items being exchanged. At one point, I thought I saw a key passed between hands.

            “I got hooked once, but that’s it.” David’s reply was a snide chuckle, grimacing at the pain the movement caused to the gaping wound in his chest. “The Huntress can’t handle this beast!” He flexed his bicep once, then pulled his long hair back against his scalp. I rolled my eyes with a smile, my own hands going to the wound in my neck.

            “And you, Farisa?” Her eyes turned to me, holding me with their dark depths.

            “Ah, hatchet came out of nowhere and hit me.” I shrugged a little bit, but her eyes tracked the blood on my face and chin, prompting another answer, “Then she grabbed me in the gate, but I got away.”

            “Well, good job, you two.” Feng bobbed her head in a pleased nod. “Why don’t you two rest for a bit, help yourself to some food? Claudette whipped up some rabbit stew for us.” She gestured to the girl squatting by the flames, equipped with a ladle and a pouch of green herbs. “I’m sure the Entity has more in store for us than just the Huntress today. Detective Tapp, Meg, Jane, and Ash just left for a Trial only a few moments ago, and Bill has been swearing up and down that today’s going to be a busy one.”

            “Thank you, Feng.” I gave her a warm smile, watching my teammates for a moment as they filtered back into the crowd of busy survivors before I began towards the fire. In between Trials and in short walks through the woods, I had come to learn a few things about the survivors. Dwight was supposed to be the leader of the group, but he had a few flaws that sometimes made him be a bit of a coward. Feng Min stepped up to serve as a co-leader, working alongside him to better the game of the rest of us. Feng Min ran the supply for Trials, making sure medical kits were loaded with whatever they needed and toolboxes stuffed full of tools and extra gears. Dwight handled the strategy of it, making sure we knew our way around the maps and which generators to hit. Work together, if we can manage, but try not to hit all the generators in one area. Otherwise, we lock ourselves into one area and provide a perfect situation for the killers to patrol and slaughter whoever walked in their domain.

            As for the others, they all seemed to have their roles. Some were more skilled at running the killers in circles, such as Laurie, who always seemed to be the object of their obsession. Then there was Nea, who always seemed to manage a balanced landing from high places, just out of the killer’s reach. Jake was a master saboteur when it came to hook dismantling, whereas Claudette knew her way around plants with some botany knowledge she carried over from her previous life. It made me long to know what kind of skills I could contribute to the Trials, and what everyone else’s had brought to the fray. However, with only a sparse fragment of memory to go off of and not even a hint at a name, I couldn’t even begin to figure out what it was I could offer.

            My attention was turned to David, who took only one step before he turned back to the woods, his eyes fixating on something in the distance. A groan followed by a dark chuckle rumbled from the barrel chested man, his steps unsteady whilst he limped towards the edge of the clearing once again, “Hey Feng, grab me a medkit with a styptic agent, would ya? I’m being demanded into the next one already. Guess it doesn’t want me to mither around her, huh?” He extended a hand as Feng returned to his side with the requested item, then without another word, he limped back into the surrounding forest.

            “I’m going too,” Nea grumbled from where she had risen by the fire, stretching her arms high overhead until her shoulders and elbows popped. “Guess I’ll see you dipshits later.” Her eyes cast a brief stare at our little congregation before she, too, disappeared into the shadows. Not far behind her, Jake and Kate followed. One by one, the survivors left the clearing, until the only ones left were myself and Quentin, who was asleep by the crackling fire. Without them here, the clearing seemed empty, deprived of the only life that seemed to somehow thrive in this world.

            I sat beside the fire for a while, helping myself to the stew that Claudette had prepared before she left. All around me I heard their screams from the distance, a chorus of agony rising to the clouded sky. I tried my best to tune them out, but it was no use. I would just have to bear with their screams for a while until they came back, however they came back. I never knew that you could hear their screams from this little fire, a constant and painful reminder of the fate we faced in this world. The Entity, from what I was learning, was a creature that thrived off the pain and suffering of us survivors, pleasuring itself with our fear and feeding it back to us in a constant cycle.

            I heard the snap of a twig from beyond the clearing. Were the others coming back already? It hadn’t been long since they all left, and I still heard shrill cries from the distance. I set my dishware aside and rose to my feet, turning to face the lurch in the shadows-

            “Evan?”

            “Shh.”

            I could just barely see the light of the fire reflecting off the metal protruding from his muscles. With the way the soft orange glow hit him, and the depth of the shadows that were so heavy already in the woods, he was a haunting sight to behold. I quietly made my way closer, looking back once at Quentin to make sure he hadn’t stirred. “What are you doing here?”

            Evan was quiet for a while, then a single, scarred hand reached into the light, extended towards me with his palm up. I hesitated, a flash of the night in his cave rushing back to me, but against my better judgement, I took it. My skin relished the heat of his skin on mine, the years and years of Trials and hard work evident in the callouses on his fingers. My own hands explored his texture, his long digits, every little scar and crack in his worn flesh. His fingers closed around mine, and he pulled me into the dark with him, beside him, so close to him now I could feel his breath on my hair.

            He raised my hand to his face, placing it on the mask he used to hide himself from us, from me. A thudding in my chest matched the butterflies in my stomach, filling me with a nervous excitement. In slow, deft movements, my fingers moved beneath the straps that held his mask in place, and the metallic piece fell from his face, hitting the ground with a quiet ring.

            I didn’t get to look at his face long before his mouth was on mine.

            His tongue explored me, searching against mine in gentle desperation. His hands were holding me against him as though he were afraid I would break free and run from him, pulling against my hips so that they clashed against his. He seemed so desperate to keep me there against his chest, keep his pounding heart close to mine. This man, this large, imposing man was being so gentle, yet so adamant that I needed to be his, right then, right now. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, running one hand over his head, the other on his stubbled jawline. My feet lifted from the ground when his hands moved from my hips to my rear, holding me so close he could crush me if he squeezed tight enough.

            Rough bark scraped against my back, tugging at my clothes, pulling them up and away. No, not the tree, _him._ His hands were on my body, exploring my skin underneath of my shirt. He felt so rigid against me, as hard as the tree at my back but gentler than the leaves. A whimper, but not a pained one, escaped my lips when I felt his teeth graze so softly against my neck, tasting the sweat on my skin, the predator finally having hold of his prey. Trapped between the tree and the pressure of his body, I was immobilized, unable to withdraw from him. Even so, my arms held fast around him, keeping him close, closer, I didn’t want to let him go. My hand squeezed his shoulder, exerting whatever pressure I could to try to convey to him that I wanted him just as bad as he wanted me. I was getting lightheaded, my breath shallow, his breathing just as quick-paced as my own, our hearts beating against our rib cages so hard I thought they would burst at each other.

Then just as suddenly as we had spiraled into this moment, we were out of it, panting before each other with red faces and shaky bodies. His hands squeezed my hips firmly, making sure I was still there, really there, before bowing his head into my neck, inhaling a deep, slow breath. For such a big man, he looked so fragile in this moment, overcome with whatever emotion had spurred such a heated encounter. I could still see that emotion in the tremble of his arms, feel it with every beat of his heart.

We held each other like that for ages, enjoying each other’s presence. He was so warm against me, almost lulling me into a doze. My eyes closed for a moment as his lips pressed against my neck, peppering the faint line that served as a remnant of my death. All was quiet for what seemed like ages, spent in peaceful togetherness, until he pulled his mouth away an inch to whisper, “Farisa… what happened in the cave, when I… I didn’t-”

            “It’s okay.” I stroked his head gently, letting my cheek press against his temple whilst he voiced his thoughts, “You didn’t want to… right?” It was a shot in the dark, and my voice betrayed my unsteady emotions. I felt him nod against my skin, sparking a shiver that ran down the length of my body. “I won’t lie to you… When I woke up, I was really hurt that you did that to me. I felt so betrayed, and I wanted to hate you. I still don’t understand why you did it.” He was silent against my collar bone, and I knew he was listening. My voice trembled with my unsteady breath, “I want to understand, Evan… I want to know why I can’t bring myself to hate you. I know we shouldn’t be like this… But I can’t push you away.”

            “Please don’t.” The muscles of his chest flexed as I felt the taut squeeze of his large hands on my hips, pressing himself even closer to me. “I don’t know what the hell it is about you, but-”

            “What?”

            “You wouldn’t understand.” Evan began to pull away from me, place me back down on my feet and put space between us. I felt cold without him against me, almost incomplete. I tried to take a step towards him, but the distance was back, with him holding a hand up to keep me away.

            “Then make me understand, I _want_ to understand, Evan.” Against his wishes, I took a step towards him, then another, closing the distance he had made between us. His hand pushed against my shoulder, keeping me back, but not for long. I swiped his hand aside and stepped until I was even closer to him, breathing the same air as him once again, chest to chest. I grabbed a fistful of his overalls, pulling gently on his clothing, a demanding gesture from someone so much smaller than him. “How am I supposed to understand if you don’t tell me?”

            “Farisa, listen to me. It’s something a survivor wouldn’t understand.” He grabbed me by the wrists, leaning down so he was face to face with me. “Its what the Entity instills in all of us. Bloodlust, a craving for violence and bloodshed. What we _feel_ when we cut down you survivors. Its something I can’t put into words.” He squeezed lightly, then touched his forehead to mine, “Just… understand that the idea of you, being in that situation…”

            My heart jumped into my throat, listening to his quiet explanation. “Do I make you feel that way?” The question came unbidden from my lips, spoken before I knew what I was saying. I gazed into his hazel hues, enraptured by the colors, the light of the moon on his prominent cheekbones highlighting every strong line in his stone-expression.

            “Are you seriously asking me this?” He huffed a soft chuckle, straightening his posture and standing at his full height once again. He ran a hand over his mouth, thumbing the stubble that shadowed his square jaw while he thought of an answer. “Its… complicated. I feel _something_ for you, but not the same as in a Trial. Definitely not the same feelings as the others.” He brought his arms around me one last time, holding me to his chest, “I don’t know how the hell to explain it.”

            “You don’t have to,” I let my hand reach up to grasp at the shoulder strap of his overalls, “I think I get it.” His eyes were burning as they looked at me, not with hate, not with rage, something much more passionate instead. He moved my hair from my face, began to lean down-

            Then he snapped away from me, looking up and around with such alarm that it surprised me. I bent and picked up his mask, passing it into his hands before I, too, looked around. All was quiet in the dark of the woods, almost too quiet. That’s when I heard them; in the distance, heavy footsteps and rushed breathing. The others were coming back, quick on their feet, rushing for the clearing that ensured their safety. I grabbed Evan by the hand and pulled him behind one of the larger trees, just before Nea ran past with her team in tow. I exhaled slowly, relief flooding my overworked body.

            “Farisa…” Evan’s voice was right by my ear, his body hunched over mine as we took shelter behind the large silhouette of the old oak. He sounded nervous, unsure if we should stay around this area when the other survivors could be rushing in and out. My skin tingled as he said my name. “Its not a good idea for me to be here, not with you.” I knew what he meant, but it still kind of hurt to hear that. He began to turn from me, taking long steps that would take him away into the heart of the woods, “I need to go-”

            “But I don’t want you to.”

            He paused with his back to me, then looked back over his shoulder, catching me with such a raw, unkept emotion that I found myself heating up inside. “I can’t stay here, Farisa. If I were to go out there into that campfire ring-”

            “Then what? What would they do to you?”

            Silence. Did he really think they would condemn him? I approached him slowly, touching his arm; he was trembling. The idea must terrify him, going against eons of cutting them down to instead sit side by side with them in the warmth of the fire’s glow. Years and years of bloodshed, listening to the screams reach the sky, and causing countless numbers of deaths and wounds had taken a toll on him, it seemed. I couldn’t begin to fathom how that must feel. “Evan, they won’t hurt you. They don’t have anything that can.”

            “Do you really think that they’d let me share that space with them?” His tone shifted, darker now than it had been before. He wasn’t afraid of change, no, but there was no telling what he thought about this change, other than that he was angry for my suggesting it. “Farisa, I have spent my entire time walking this plane _murdering_ them. I have ripped Dwight’s guts from his stomach, I have sent Laurie’s brain matter spattering in the grass. Fuck, I’ve sawed the limbs off every single one of them! You think because of one newbie survivor who doesn’t know how the fuck to play the game that suddenly, they’re going to change their mind about me, the man who’s been one of many Grim Reapers?”

            I winced at his spiteful words, feeling the tears prick at my eyes. I couldn’t cry, not in front of him. I took a shaky breath, focusing my energy into keeping the tears from flowing as I hissed, “I’m sure you weren’t a murder machine when you first started either. You’ve had years to practice. I’ve been here, what, two days? Three? I don’t even know how long I’ve been here, but not long enough. I’m still learning.”

            The shock on his face was palpable as he grasped what he had said, “Farisa, I didn’t mean-”

            “No, you did.” My cheeks were wet. I couldn’t stop them now, the salty droplets falling like fierce waterfalls that ceased to stop. A hiccup pushed past my lips, and I used my sleeve to swipe away one of the streams. “I didn’t want to be here, Evan. None of us did. Not you, not any of the survivors, nor any of the killers. The Entity is using us for its own gain; we didn’t build the wall between who is who, It did.” Evan took a step towards me, a dark shadow crossing his otherwise forlorn eyes. “I just wanted to run my gallery business. I just wanted to live happily with who I thought was mister perfect. I didn’t want any of this!”

            “Farisa-”

            “Don’t.” I held a hand up to him, pushing softly, weakly on his chest. His heart beat so hard against my palm, thumping, throbbing in his muscles. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t feel anything other than intense hurt and a soreness in my chest. “Evan, I… I don’t want to go into another Trial.”

            “I know.” His chest moved closer, and he was around me, holding me, stifling my tears in his overalls. “But we have to. We don’t have much choice. Just try to bear with it, and it’ll become some semblance of normal.” My hands seized around fistfuls of the fabric, my breath stuttering with his softness. It was all I could do to hold onto him, quell my cries against his chest and just breathe in his scent; earthy, dusty, rich with the scent of dew-dotted leaves. “So just… stop crying. Please.”

            “Farisa!”

            I heard them calling my name from the fire. They had noticed I was missing. I rubbed my eyes on my sleeves and whispered, “I should go back.” Evan merely nodded, rubbing his thumb across my cheek, before letting me go. We both knew it was time to separate, back to the “reality” that existed in this plane. We had to part and go back to what we were selected to be… foes. “Evan… thank you, for visiting.”

            The man before me pushed his mask up his face, uncovering his mouth so he could he bend and peck a small kiss on my cheek. “You should return the favor sometime. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.” Evan left me with a soft smile, then disappeared into the inky depths of the surrounding wood.

            I turned back to the clearing, making sure to swipe the last of my tears from my cheeks before walking ahead. Even though I felt much lighter, more certain of what it was I felt for the big man, I couldn’t shake the feeling of haunted eyes watching me from beyond.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author here! I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Since we've come this far, I'm enlisting your help! As you know, Farisa is a survivor, who needs her own perks! I have two already designed and written, but I need one more! This is where you come in! Please leave your ideas in the comments section below; when the perks are implemented, I will place them in a note on the chapter.  
> This being said, please tell me if there's anything you would like to see! Tell me your theories, your ships, what you wish would happen, etc. Granted, I have three more chapters in store for you that are already written, but I want to stick to a once a week upload schedule! :) Love you all!

            Evan had been right. The more Trials I went into, the more normal it became. Generators were easy fixes, totems easier to find, and some killers I could manage to somehow escape from with minimal injuries. Even the different Trial maps were becoming familiar to me, making it easier to locate escapes and generators as I needed them. Jake, a quiet man with a knack for mechanics, had shown me during a Trial how to dismantle hooks so that the killers couldn’t use them. He had a gentle way of speaking, as though he were afraid to scare the very grass we walked on. Feng Min, in a rare occasion that I had been put on a team with her, showed me how to make the generator less noisy.

“When putting the wires together, do so slowly, so that you don’t shock the chords,” She had advised, demonstrating the action. The motor seemed to purr more like a cat rather than rev like a truck engine as I had grown used to. At one point, the generator stuttered, ringing out as the gears caught, but didn’t blow. Feng clucked her tongue, mending the lost progress, and I wondered what she had done to keep sparks from flying.

Claudette, the sweet thing that she was, delicately pointed out the different plants and herbs that grew in the different realms. MacMillan Estate was host to a vast abundance of herbs such as sage and oregano, and the Red Forest boasted different healing plants. A majority of the realms had some sort of vegetation, be it something small like bog laurels and amaranths. However, there were other places that were just too cold or too barren.

            One of these places was the Treatment Theater of the Lery’s Memorial Institute.

            It was in this unfortunate place that I found myself for the Trial. This building was nothing but corridors, rooms, shower facilities and massive rooms full of overturned cots. Hospital beds littered the halls, carts and file cabinets lay overturned at almost every corner, and garbage made for tricky footing. As I made my way around, I found myself in a library, or office of sorts. A lone desk sat tucked against one of the tall shelves, and books lay everywhere; on the desk, on the shelves, on the floor, and everywhere else in the room I looked. I picked up one of the thick, leather-bound volumes, inspecting its dusted cover; _Anatomy of the Human Brain_. I inspected another book, finding a similar title, then another and another, all based around anatomy and the treatments of different ailments, most of which involved electro-shock therapy.

            But one such novel caught my eye. I reached for it and pulled the item from the shelf, curious of its contents. I flipped open the leaflets to the first page…

_12th September_

_I began my search in the summer of 1956 after hearing of the town of Weeks, a place that had an unusual number of missing persons reports. America is filled with such towns. But what made this one more odd than some, was that there had never been a report of a body found. Indeed, the number of open missing cases stood at a staggering 364, the last of which happened a mere ten weeks ago. Thus I embark on my journey._

            The writing had faded with its age but was still legible. The cursive was done by a careful hand, perhaps a journalist or a scientist. I flipped back to the inside of the cover, trying to find the name of the owner to this book. After scouring the beaten leather for a few moments, I found it, less readable than rest of the inky scrawl and tucked against the bottom corner of the cover; Benedict Baker.

            The name didn’t sound at all familiar, but the weight of the volume suggested years of research that could be important. I found myself tucking the journal into the large front pocket of my sweatshirt, intending to take it with me out of the trial. It would give me something to do outside of the Trials while I bided my time. Curiosity was brimming for what information the pages held within their bindings.

            I heard the distant sound of bells chiming, ringing against the walls of the institute and bouncing off the staticky screens of old box-televisions. I frowned, trying to remember which killer used bells, when I realized all too late that the killer in question was on top of me. I felt the end of his skull club bash into my shoulders, bruising me and sending me rocketing forward, out of the office area. I glanced back over my shoulder, my heart beat racing in my ears, as the tall stick of a man lurched after me with haunted white eyes.

            _Philip_ , I recalled, remembering the chance meeting in Evan’s cave so long ago. Better known as the Wraith, Philip was a stealth killer, with the ability to cloak himself and blend into whatever surroundings he found himself in. The skull on the end of his club doubled as a bell, the source of his ability. By ringing it, he could go in and out of his cloaked state, and such an ability was absolute hell to go against. Here in the institute, the halls and rooms made the sound of his bell echo, so it sounded as though he was everywhere.

            He was almost impossible to detect without some sort of premonition to sense that he was coming. Now that he was fast on my heels, I was without any ideas other than to dart into the nearest room. It was dark, cluttered, filled with abandoned hospital equipment and surgical carts. Just a few feet ahead of me, a pallet was my salvation, leaning precariously against a wheel-deprived hospital gurney. I launched myself forward, yanking down the old, splintering wood on his face. I felt the wood bite into my palms, leaving behind little broken bits in my flesh. The beast grunted, an oddly hollow sound, as he stumbled a few paces, then righted himself and glared at me with such feverish hatred, I feared he was about to leap the pallet and come at my throat.

            “Didn’t take you long to learn,” The creature spat through yellowed teeth, raising an old, gnarled foot and slamming it down on the molded wood. The pallet splintered and burst into nothing but unusable pieces of plywood, clattering to the tiles. “You pests are all the same, with your damned pallets and your damned flashlights.” His presence was overwhelming, my heartbeat so loud in my ears that I couldn’t hear anything else other than the hollow sound of his voice and my own blood rushing through my veins. His anger was rising, palpable, suffocating me with every word, “The Trapper should know better than to associate with someone of your like. You miserable pieces of shit do nothing but make life hell for us.” He raised his club to swing, bringing it down in a wide arc.

            I dodged to the left, towards the doorframe that led into an open operating room, but the Wraith was unrelenting. I felt the skull of his club bash into the back of mine, sending me crashing to the broken tiles of the floor. I sputtered, dizzy, with the only present sensation the heat and damp that was settling in my hair and on the back of my hoodie. I felt myself be lifted by his gnarled fingers onto his shoulder-

            But the creature cried out and dropped me almost immediately to my feet, giving me a chance to dart past the flashlight equipped Nea. I didn’t look back as I let myself disappear into the twists and turns of the treatment theater, leaving behind the sounds of frustrated howling and the clicking of the flashlight button. Before long, Ash and Bill were at my side, tag-teaming to staunch the bloody wound at the back of my skull using an old beat-up medical kit, the older of the two muttering and cursing, “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

            “Thank you.” My hand slid back to delicately touch their handiwork, before following them to a nearby room, where a generator sat half-progressed. Two of its pistons pumped harshly in and out of the machine, working overly hard to provide what little power it could to the large machine. “How many generators do we have left to do?”

            “Just this one, and we’re out.” Bill replied, squinting at a set of wires he held carefully in his hands. He sparked the two of them together, then bound them together with a piece of electrical tape. “Door’s just around the corner too.” He took a long pull of his always-burning cigarette and exhaled the smoke against the gears, “Nea can handle the Wraith until then. She’s good at it.”

            He was right. Nea was one of the survivors who had been here the longest and knew her way around the twist and turns of the maps. With a map as expansive as the institute and a number of doorways, window vaults, and pallets to her advantage, she could loop whoever the foe was for ages. She always seemed to boast about how many pallet-slams she could get in on a killer during a Trial; her personal record was eight. Even now, I could hear her laughter echoing through the vacant halls.

            Finally, the last generator roared to life, and electricity shivered through the entirety of the building. I listened to the alarm of the doors, making my way closer to the nearest one with the men at my sides. Just outside the doors to the institute sat the escape gates, sleek sheet metal against the fall of powdery snow. My shoes crunched in the drifts, crouching behind one of the broken LED signs that sat embedded in the dirt and slush to shield myself from the wind whilst I waited for Ash to finish opening the gate. My hands burrowed into my sweatshirt pocket, partially to keep warm, and to make sure that the journal still sat nestled in my pocket. My thumb frisked the pages, feeling the old parchment soft against my skin. I was anxious to get back and read it.

            _B-BMP B-BMP B-BMP-_

            My heartbeat was in my ears, accompanied by the harsh ringing of a bell.

            Nea darted past us just as the gates creaked open, followed close behind by Bill and Ash. I tucked myself tighter against the sign, knowing that I would not make it past him if I tried to dart in now. Nea’s catcalls and loud whoops of laughter reached the sky, an obvious jab at the failure of the Wraith to catch her. I listened to the grumble of the beast when I assumed the survivors made their hasty exit.

            “I know you’re over there. You can go.”

            My heart lurched in my chest, hearing him direct his sour tone towards me. I peeked my head out from behind the sign, looking at the tall tree-like man. His face was scrunched in contempt, his hand flexing around his heavy-looking club. He looked utterly defeated and enraged, unsatisfied bloodlust emanating from him like a poisonous aura. Slowly, I crept out from my hiding place, moving towards the open doors while never taking my eyes off him.

            “Why are you letting me go?” I stood just inside of the brick frame, watching him from a safe enough distance. Just because he said I could go didn’t mean that he wouldn’t. “My team is gone, leaving just me, and you’ve made it pretty obvious you don’t like us. Why hold back?”

            The Wraith watched me for a moment longer, mulling over his choice of words, “Because at this moment, you’re about ten feet from safety, and I still need to knock you down before I can end your miserable life. I’d rather not add salt to the wound.” He began to turn away from me, looking back at the institute, inspecting its neon lights and painfully blue walls. “Besides, I want to go back to my turf. I hate this damned place.”

            “Because of the lights?” I kept my tone soft, gentle, “I remember you talking to the Trapper about the flashlights.” The Wraith did not turn back to me. “I don’t like lights either. They’re painfully bright.”

            “The hell do you know about lights?” He snarled, keeping his hunched back to me.

            “It was the last thing I saw before I ended up here.”

            Now that caught his attention. He turned slowly, watching my expression, meeting it with his own look of careful curiosity. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stood silent with glowing white eyes trained on me. He took a step forward, then another, until he stood just two feet from me, within range of his weapon should he swing it. His proximity made me nervous, my body begging me to flee, but I held my ground. If he wanted to swing, he would, and I would dart towards the gate as fast as I could.

            “You were blinded as you died?” He didn’t sound as hostile now, though he kept a distant edge to his tone.

            “Terribly.” It was the truth. I wasn’t sure what type of vehicle had owned those LED headlights, but they had been level with my windshield. Thinking back to that night forced a migraine to return, nagging at my temples as the sound of shattered glass echoed at the back of my skull. “The lights were about as bright, if not brighter than the signs here.”

            The Wraith nodded slowly, silent for a moment, and then to my surprise, “The Trapper’s domain is dark. It’s a good place to rest your eyes away from the light… he likes your company.”

            Then he disappeared with a ringing of a bell, and I decided it was time to take my leave.

*-*-*

            As I wandered my way through the surrounding woods, I couldn’t help but begin to think. How many of the killers were as dissatisfied with the Trials as the survivors? The Wraith hated the institute because of the lights, but now I wanted to know what all the killers thought. Did Evan have anything he particularly hated in this realm? Did all the killers have something they wished was different? I knew that many of the survivors had spoken about missing the warmth and comfort of beds, but I wasn’t sure if the killers shared the same grievances.

            And the way the Wraith had spoken about Evan at the gate. Did he talk about me to the other killers? It wasn’t a good idea if he did, since they were all bloodthirsty monsters out for the demise of the survivors. But if he did, maybe he had only spoken to the Wraith. Dwight had mentioned that the Wraith, the Trapper, and the Hillbilly were the oldest killers, having been here since the beginning of whenever this hellscape had came to be, so perhaps Evan and the Wraith had a closer bond than the other killers.

            That’s if the killers socialized with each other. As far as I knew, they went back to their home turf after the Trials, but that was only an assumption I had placed based on Evan’s habits. I didn’t know what the others did in their spare time, and there were still a number of killers I hadn’t met yet, such as the feared Doctor and the vicious Hag, who were supposedly much trickier to deal with. Clearly, the killers knew of each other and had some form of communication with each other. However, I wondered what they thought of the man that was a survivor’s worst nightmare.

            Michael Myers.

            The man was a silent terror, from what Laurie had told me between Trials. As tall as the Wraith with the build of the Trapper, he was a strong man with an even stronger desire for bloodshed. He reportedly never spoke a word, to survivors or killers, or otherwise. You could only hear his breathing, loud against the latex of his expressionless bone-white mask, as he snuck up behind with a large kitchen knife, sharpened and primed to pierce cleanly through flesh. The Entity must have had a grand time when It selected Michael as one of Its hellraisers.

            My feet carried me forward, through the dense of the shrubbery and the height of the oaks, until I recognized my surroundings. A frown turned my lips downward, taking another long look at the oak trees and the full moon overhead, then the flame barrels that lit up the piles of logs that lay stacked on top of each other. I had been so lost in thought, I hadn’t paid attention to where I was walking, and ended up diverting from the path to the campfire. I took a step towards the log pile-

            _SNAP!_

Right into a trap. I cried out in pain and bent at the knee, my hands quivering as I fought against the jaws. My hands kept slipping through the blood that did not cease to pour from the deep wounds in my ankle, and I was finding it hard to pull myself out of my predicament. I eventually gave up, sitting back with a frustrated groan, cursing my absentmindedness. Well… it was one of Evan’s traps. He’s probably heard it by now and is coming to check it out. I just needed to wait until he finally showed up to my rescue.

            I massaged my thighs, distracting myself from the pain, though only slightly. Why on earth did he leave his traps open around the place anyway? He more than likely knew where they were, but it didn’t make sense to leave them open. Unless he was trying to capture something in them. Did killers need to eat? Now that I thought about it, I wasn’t sure I ever saw Evan eat or even mention food. I winced as a fresh wave of pain flooded up my leg, interrupting my mental rambles.

            “The hell are you doing?” There he was. He approached from around the log pile, his gaze settling on me immediately. Attached to his belt were a few swaying, bloody bundles of fur. That answered the eating question and why the traps were open in the first place. His voice edged on worried, but also bemused to see what unexpected thing he had caught. “You know, you should probably watch your step, especially if you keep coming around here.”

            “Ha ha, very funny, can you help me out please?” I whined, trying again to feebly push the jaws open. “I can’t get loose.” Evan knelt next to me, taking my hands and holding them away from the trap. I still couldn’t get over the rough texture of his callouses and just how large his hands were compared to mine. They completely enveloped my hands, wrapping them in his warmth.

            “That’s because you’re pushing against the teeth. That’s going to do nothing for you.” Evan scolded softly, turning my palms up to look at the blood and small cuts, then moved my fingers to the joints of the contraption. “You need to pull at the coil, here. It will release you.” His careful fingers adjusted the coil in question, and immediately I felt the pressure release. The steel released me, slowly falling open and I was able to pull my foot out. “See? Just like that. Now tell me why the hell I’m finding you, outside a Trial, caught in my trap?” The stern expression on his face never wavered, even as he collected the trap and set it in the grass beside him.

            My shoulders rose and fell in a light shrug. “I left Lery’s and was on my way back, but I kinda got lost in thought. Stupid things, I guess.”  My eyes scanned the bloody mess of my leg, letting my fingers gingerly explore the punctures and tears, “Just something the Wraith said that made me curious.”

            “And what did he say?” Evan’s eyes flitted for a moment to my leg, acknowledging the wound. His hands once more slid over mine, inspecting the injury and its severity, before he rose to his feet and extended a hand. I graciously took it, pulling myself off the ground.

            “Just about how he hates the lights at Lery’s.” I slowly let my weight fall on my leg, testing its ability to hold me. “It got me wondering about you guys. The killers, I mean.” My knee wobbled as pain ricocheted through my shin and up to my hip, causing my balance to falter for a moment. Evan huffed in slight annoyance and lifted me up, tossing me over his shoulder with careful ease. “Y’know, you don’t have to carry me like this. I feel like a sack of flour.”

            “It’s just easier.” He patted my leg as he carried me through the estate, humming as we went along. “What were you wondering about?”

            “Stupid stuff? Like, do you guys eat?” I groaned when I heard him chortle a laugh, feeling my cheeks heat with embarrassment. “I’m being serious! I don’t know anything about you guys, and I want to.” I smiled a bit, before bracing myself for the big question that had been brewing for a while now, “And… do you guys remember who you were? Do you guys hate this as much as we do?” The sudden shift in the conversation made Evan pause for a moment, turning his head against my leg as though he were trying to see my expression. “The Wraith hates the lights, and I get the feeling that a lot of killers have animosity towards us when it comes to pallets.” This won an annoyed groan from Evan. “So you guys do hate things in this realm?”

            “Farisa, we’re human too.” Evan grumbled, readjusting his hold on me. The estate was getting darker, and if I turned, I would be able to see the stone wall that would open into his dwelling place. “Or we used to be, at least. I can’t say as much for the other guys, but I like to think I’m still human.” The air turned damp when he crossed through the cave’s foyer and deeper within. “How many questions do you have? ‘Cuz if it’s going to take all night-”

            “Evan.”

            The man sighed as he placed me down on the square boulder that he so often sat upon. Behind him, the fire had reduced to cinders, casting only the faintest glow in the dark cave. His silhouette was dimly illuminated, looming over me, and I had to rely mostly on my hearing and touch to gauge what it was he was doing. Was he thinking? The heat of his palms came to rest on my thighs, his thumbs pulling at the loose fabric for a moment before sliding down to my injured ankle. First my shoe, then my sock came off, then my pant leg was rolled up to my knee, all done with a careful slowness that made my mind buzz about ideas that I shouldn’t be having.

            “You really ought to find another change of clothes.” Evan’s voice was soft, absent-minded and husky as he further inspected the wound in the darkness. “Baggy clothes are not your friend in this realm.” I felt his breath blow across my exposed skin, sending shivers and goosebumps rocketing through my body. I bit my lip to avoid making a sound, tried to concentrate on his deft fingers as he continued to inspect the wound, “You’re lucky it didn’t snap shut all the way. A few punctures, nothing some stitches can’t fix, but the Entity works faster.”

            “How am I supposed to find new clothes?” I leaned towards him, looking down at the swell of the wound. It looked bad, but surprisingly better than when it had first happened. The Entity really did work fast. “I can’t exactly go out to the store and buy anything.” Evan chuckled softly, to which I frowned, “What’s so funny?”

            “You could just mend the clothes you already have. Take the sleeves off, cut off the pant legs, stuff like that.” Evan’s eyes caught the light as he looked at my face, catching me with his gaze. We went quiet for a moment, the masked man clearing his throat and finally turning away. “Did you have any other questions?”

            The collection of wonders that I had managed slipped from my grasp, forgotten in the soft heat of his gaze. Except for one.

            My hand slid into my hoodie, drawing out the leather-bound journal that I had abducted from Lery’s Memorial Institute. His eyes traveled down to the item, and I could see him pause with curiosity, whilst the question slid from my lips, “Who was Benedict Baker?”


	12. Chapter 12

            Quiet hung in the air around us, our focus on the journal held in my small hands. The question was one that didn’t have an answer; no one knew who Benedict Baker was, or how he came to know about this place. The only thing we knew about him was from what he left behind in his notes. Summarized, he mentions that he was researching mysterious disappearances and murders in which bodies were never recovered. The victims were random and global, with no rhyme or reason; a man from Michigan, a traveling songbird, a girl who lost her way after several lost Esport matches, and the list goes on. It didn’t take me long to piece together who was who.

            But my entry wasn’t in the journal. He hadn’t seen me yet, if he was still around. Even the killers had their entries, but not me. Perhaps he would find me, pull me aside at some random point between Trials or while I dozed off at the survivor’s camp. Or maybe I had taken his journal before he could put my entry in. For a moment, I wondered if I was even supposed to have been sucked into this hellish plane of existence. A sudden thought raced across my mind, fleeting as quickly as a dying ember; Benedict Baker may know my name, who I was, every bit of memory that I hadn’t unlocked yet. If he knew this much about everyone, surely he knew about me, right?

Either way, this journal held secrets to the realm that the Entity probably would not want me having. Who each killer was, how their powers worked, what items they could burn to make them more powerful or amplify certain aspects of their ability, and what made each survivor unique. It was a detailed script of everything that made everyone tic.

            Evan’s thick fingers perused the pages, his mouth pressed into a tight line as I watched the shadowy thoughts cross through his eyes. A deep frown furrowed his brow. “And you found this in Lery’s? What the hell was this doing there?” After glancing at one of the faded passages, he snapped the volume shut and passed it back to me. He watched me place it back into my hoodie pocket, his eyes lingering on the hem of my clothes, then brought his eyes back up to my face. When I nodded my affirmation, a soft sigh blew away from him, “Listen, I don’t think the other survivors should know about this. It could spell trouble.”

            “Yeah.” I had no intention of showing the others. They would use this information cruelly, exploiting the secrets of the journal for their own game and making the Trials a no-contest match. Nea would especially enjoy the Wraith’s entry, maybe even use his past to develop a new sling of insults to throw at him. I may not like the guy, but I wouldn’t let her do that.

            The silence returned, our minds busy mulling over this newfound information. The Entity hadn’t spoken to Evan in a while, nor had it intervened in Trials. The beastly deity had become quiet, too quiet, as though watching, waiting for the pawns in Its hold to move out of place. It made me nervous, a constant sense of being watched hanging on my shoulders, of eyes in the dark that saw and knew all, but I wasn’t sure what the Entity could do to make Its pawns behave again. We were already in constant torment, being killed Trial after Trial, day after day, with little to no rest between the hellscapes. Killers, the source of this torment, may be able to be punishable, but not by much. Isolation might work for some, but for most that wouldn’t seem to be an appropriate punishment.

            My thoughts wandered with my eyes, alighting on the metal pieces that adorned Evan’s tree-like build. Each one was twisted, rusted, stained with decades-old blood and grime from the countless Trials he had endured. I found myself reaching out to them, curious to know if they were cold to the touch, but he shifted away, casting a warning glare in my direction. His eyes told all; _don’t touch_.

            I had never seen that look on his face before. Not in our time alone together, nor in the one Trial we encountered each other in. It pulled at my heart, making it ache to see him hold such a guarded expression, but it only made my curiosity burn stronger. Carefully, I slid closer to him, perched at the edge of the boulder as I placed my hand on his chest, sliding my palm over his rugged, leathery skin, until my fingertips stopped just a few inches away from a protruding arc of steel. I knew he was watching me intensely; I could hear him gritting his teeth, biting back whatever it was he wanted to do. My eyes flicked to catch his, holding his gaze hostage as my hand traveled away from the piece, moving instead towards his shoulder where another, smaller sliver pierced through. Evan’s gaze broke away from mine, only allowing himself to emit a soft grunt; permission to touch.

            My fingertips found the rusted steel. It was lukewarm, the cold of the air fighting with the heat of his blood and body to regulate the temperature of the piece. Its once smooth surface felt pock-marked, years of rust and wear showing its toll. My fingernail carefully scraped at some of the rust, but Evan flinched away from me, breaking the touch. A soft look crossed my expression, and I found myself leaning towards him again, bringing my hands back to his chest.

“My dad and I had a pretty big mining and logging business that we ran off our estate.” Evan’s voice broke the quiet that had settled, gruff whilst he reminisced. His hands overlapped mine, holding my palms to his heart. “My dad was getting old, so he said ‘Son, the business is yours now.’” A distant, far-off look dusted his face. I recognized the look; mournful, a wry smile twisting his lips into more of a grimace. “When a few of my competitors tried to bite off a bit more than they could chew, I…” He glanced at me, pausing mid-sentence, before continuing, “I closed them into a mineshaft. Then detonated it.”

            It was a known fact that the killers were called that way for a reason. The Entity didn’t just pluck someone off the street. It chose cold-blooded men, and women, who lived for the thrill of the hunt. People who enjoyed hacking and slashing into living flesh until it no longer moved. Creatures whose humanity dissipated into the fog with every life they sacrificed to the deity that fueled their amusements. Hearing Evan speak of his past life, what had made the Entity choose him, it made my blood run cold. It was a not so subtle reminder that this man had killed, over and over, and he would do it again in a heartbeat. Not even I was safe from his rage should I enflame him.

            The man next to me took note of my silence, watching my expression for whatever reaction I came up with. Before long, he was continuing his tale with a softer tone, “The Entity was there, that day. Made sure I couldn’t outrun the blast. That’s how I got these.” He flicked the end of the long piece in his shoulder, then winced. “I’ve tried to pull the damned things out, but they don’t budge.”

            I couldn’t think of anything to say, other than, “Do they hurt?”

            Evan only nodded. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes anymore.

            Slowly, I slid off the boulder, kneeling in front of him now. I removed my hands from his chest to instead place them upon his cheeks, cupping his face so that he would match my gaze. “Evan, it’s okay. I don’t think any less of you. You’re a very strong, powerful man, and you were protecting your business, and your father.” My thumbs rubbed over his pectorals, admiring the rough, cracked skin. “It’s admirable.”

            “Admirable to lock a gaggle of politicians in a dark mineshaft, then light the fuse?” The contempt that spat like poison from his lips was palpable. He gripped me by the shoulders, pushing me away until I was at arms’ length.

            “Admirable to go to such lengths for your family.” The tension he held in his shoulders finally slumped away when my words left my lips, and his body slightly leaned forward so he could bump his forehead into mine. I smiled, gently kissing the chin of his mask, “So don’t beat yourself up too much, okay?”

            “Yeah, yeah.” He sighed into my hair, then leaned away once more and rose to his feet. “It’s starting to get late. Your survivor friends are going to wonder where you keep going to one of these days.”

            I frowned, pushing myself off my knees to stand halfway between him and the exit. “I have a feeling they may already know… and I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.” I could see Evan’s downturned lips from behind his mask, “It’ll be fine…” I gently pressed my hands into my pockets, drawing the journal out once more. Carefully, I turned it in my palms, then held it out to the man before me, “I think this would be safer here. Too many eyes at the campsite for this to go unnoticed. That Dwight has eyes like a damned hawk, I swear he can see people through walls.”

            Evan’s frown broke into a bemused chuckle, gladly taking the leather-wrapped pages. “I’ll keep it safe. If I don’t think I can hide it successfully, I’ll put it back in Lery’s. Deal?”

            “Deal.”

.

.

.

            “And where the hell have you been?” Nea’s growl permeated the air before I had even stepped foot into the clearing. All eyes were on me, flickering up from their previous focus at the fire. “We’ve been waiting ages for you to get back here, and _now_ you show up? The gates were open, and we were all there. _Surely_ you didn’t go back into the damned place?”

            I wasn’t sure how to answer. I tapped my fingers together, searching for an answer, trying to figure out what I could say to appease them. “Well… I talked a little bit with the Wraith. He was pretty upset with you, Nea.”

            “So?” She huffed and rolled her eyes, “Why should I care what that twit thinks? Better question, why the fuck were you even talking to it?”

            “They’re human, too.” The words that left my lips were met with so many questionable looks, ranging from curiosity to disgust. I felt pressed to continue, “Think about it. Every single one of us is dead. Our past lives are over, and now we’re in some sort of purgatory. Yeah, the killers may have killed us over and over, and they killed in their past lives, too. But that doesn’t make them less human than the rest of us.”

            “Are you out of your damned mind?” Nea had risen from the log she was perched on, taking long strides until she was face to face with me. She was just as tall as I was, if not an inch or two taller. Her green eyes were flaming with unbridled hatred, “They aren’t human. The Nurse can teleport across a Trial and slice you into bits. The damned Wraith rings a bell and boom, invisible. For fuck’s sake, the Spirit isn’t even in one piece, and she can walk in a separate dimension! And you’re telling me they’re human?” She shoved hard on my chest, forcing me to take a step back. “Grow up. Humans don’t do what they do. They wouldn’t survive if they’re human.”

            “Have you forgotten where we are?” My voice was rising. The others in the background were blurring out, disappearing into nothing but noise. My sights were set on Nea. “We should be dead, a thousand times over. We’ve been strung up on rusted hooks, slashed several times with grimy chainsaws and serrated blades, and I know for a fact everyone here has been mori’d. So, tell me Nea, how are we alive, if we’re human?” The girl clenched her teeth, fuming. “Because by your argument, we aren’t human either.”

            “That’s enough, you two.” A hand cut across my vision, distracting me from Nea’s enraged expression. Dwight stepped between us, blocking our view of each other and ending our conversation. I became painfully aware of the eyes of the other survivors, watching, judging, weighing their opinions of me against what I said. I couldn’t bring myself to look up from the ground.

            I turned slowly away, making my way towards the edge of the clearing to take a breath, clear my head. I felt hot, my own rage burning low in the furnace of my chest. I yanked off my hoodie and tossed it to the ground, trying my best to cool off. Agitation made my muscles twitch, and I couldn’t help but pace back and forth in a small, tight circle.

            Why didn’t _they understand?_

_I wanted them to understand. This business was a tough one to get into, but so lucrative once you got into it. Why didn’t they understand that this is what I wanted to do with my life? Why didn’t he understand that he couldn’t go blowing our money on stupid shit?_

_I wasn’t in the clearing anymore. I was sitting cross legged on the floor of an empty living room, staring at a blank canvas with a fresh paintbrush in my hand. In the next room over, the stench of smoked herbs fumed from Trevor’s favorite pastime. I wish he would stop smoking that damned shit while I was trying to work. It made it hard to concentrate on the canvas, on what few paints I had left. I would need to make them last until my next painting sells if I still wanted to have enough to buy groceries._

_At least Trevor didn’t eat much._

_My parents had called earlier in the day, begged me to take the job they were trying to give me. They wanted me to leave Trevor, leave this house, leave everything that I had worked tirelessly for. “Come home,” they had said, “you can paint when you get off work in the evenings. You can still be an artist, just come home.” I had worked so hard, I was finally making it. I wasn’t going to back down, and I wasn’t going to just ditch him because of a bad habit._

_I heard him call for me from the next room._

_“Va_ risa?”

            I snapped back from my brief relapse, shaking. What was that? They started to say my name, and I could actually hear it this time. Va- something. I wanted to go back, beg to hear it again, but a hand on my shoulder kept me rooted to reality. This was my reality now. Death. No job, no art, no Trevor. Only Trials.

            “Farisa, I’ve been saying your name for the last couple minutes.”

            “I’m sorry, Quentin,” A slow breath blew past my lips. I raised my hand to squeeze his, slowly removing it from where it sat on my shoulder, “I’ve been lost in thought.”

            The boy watched me for a moment, quiet, as though he could see into the nightmares in my head. His jaw was working, his muscles betraying the thoughts in his head, but still keeping the secret words he wanted to speak. Finally, he managed to say, “I just wanted to check if you’re okay. Nea’s pretty hot-headed.” He rubbed the back of his neck, continuing, “And I wanted to talk to you.”

            I raised a brow, curious to know what it was that he wanted. “About?”

            Quentin’s eyes shifted back to the clearing, where the others had gathered. Occasional glances were tossed our way, between Nea’s hateful ones and Dwight’s concerned gaze. Others seemed indifferent to the situation, where others were carefully quiet and curious. It didn’t take me long to realize they were listening to us. I stepped backwards, my hand searching for the shrubbery that lined the clearing’s circumference, before carefully reaching out so I could take Quentin’s palm in mine.

            He took the hint and followed me into the shadows, just far enough from the glow that we couldn’t be overheard. Quentin’s nervous eyes flickered back to the clearing before he finally spoke out, “I wanted to talk to you about the Trapper.” When I raised a brow, he pressed on, “Look, when you were being revived, I ran into him in Springwood. He was kind of out of it.”

            An odd kind of chill trickled down my spine. “What do you mean by ‘out of it’? Was he okay?”

            “Yeah, he was fine.” Quentin gave me an odd look. “He cornered me in the shack. Kept beating me for answers about you. He wanted to know if you had made it back yet.” Oh, after the incident in the cave, when he… I frowned, refusing to let myself think about it. “Then at the gates, he just looked so lost, and defeated. I felt bad for the guy, and I kinda made a promise to him that I would make sure you were okay, so…”

            Oh. OH. I felt heat rise in my face. Evan had made his affections very obvious to Quentin, and I felt the embarrassment burning through me. “Quentin, I’m okay.” I brushed my hair out of my face, trying to think of words to say. “He and I… well, y’see…”

            My body language was answer enough. The boy breathed a sigh and offered a frown, “Look, I don’t give a shit what you do in your free time, but some of the others do. And your relationship with him, well… Let’s just say that I don’t think anyone is too fond of it. Do what you will, but just be careful with where you go, who with, and when.”

            “Why are you worried?” His curiosity had been surprising, and his concern even more so. “You hardly know me, we’ve only played a few Trials together, and yet you’re the only one who’s been even remotely lax with me when it comes to my coming and going.”

            “Because you’re the newest one here and you barely know yourself, or anything that goes on here.” He looked past me after saying that, seeing something I didn’t. All of the color drained from his already pale face, and a hint of fear flashed through his steely grey eyes. He took my hand slowly, whispering, “We need to get back to the clearing. It’s watching.”

            The Entity was always watching.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter, guys! But here it is! :)

            My stomach had been churning since my conversation with Quentin. Something just felt terribly wrong, and I couldn’t place why. My body had been frantically agitated, unable to keep still or calm. My chest felt as though a bird were flicking its wings against my chest, anxiety making me restless. I had worn tracks into the perimeter of the safe space that was the survivor camp, the grass deteriorating into dust.

            I felt it. The call.

I wasn’t sure I could handle this Trial. The others were beginning to turn their heads, one by one, as the call went out, selecting the individuals that would participate in the next series of Trials for whatever day it happened to be. David stood, followed by Quentin and Dwight, making their way towards me. They were my team, then. Quentin and I exchanged glances, a quiet thought passing between us as we wondered who it would be that we were to face.

            “Well, let’s get going then.” Dwight patted my shoulder, then pushed a medical kit into my hands. “You’re going to need this. You haven’t learned how to patch yourself up yet, right?” To this, I shook my head no. “Claudette will teach you soon. She taught all of us. It’s useful to know.” I frowned, clutching the medical kit tightly against my chest.

            “Don’t worry too much, kid.” David had finally pulled on a shirt and jacket, covering his distracting body. “With enough experience, and some friendships, the others will start to teach you what you need to know to survive.” I highly doubted Nea would give me any sort of tips after our little spat. “I’ll show you how to dodge, if you want. Can be quite handy against some of the killers.”

            “Thanks.” I gave him a barely managed smile, unable to quell the unnerving sense of shadowy eyes watching from every darkened corner. As one, we stepped into the shrubs, enveloped by the shadows. The fire quickly disappeared behind us, and the trees towered overhead like lurking giants, watching through thick, aged bark and twisting limbs. I felt the air grow warmer, muggy, and for once I was glad I had taken my hoodie off. The trees opened up into a wide expanse, unveiling to us the map that would host our Trial. The killer already lurked within, waiting for us to enter so it could satisfy its bloodlust. We all shared one last look before walking through the gates.

            The sheet metal shut behind us. I half expected the shadows to follow us in and separate us, but they didn’t. I looked around the area, trying to assess the open terrain. Old, rotting trees rose from the boggy ground, deprived of any foliage. The air reeked of decay and sulfur, mud bubbles popping underfoot. Fallen logs made the area a little more complicated to navigate, but the patches of cattails and long grass made up for it. In the distance, I could see a large boat, it’s hull falling apart and exposing the long-forgotten cargo. On top deck, I could see the lights of a generator, flickering against the yellowed sky.

            “So, we’re at the Pale Rose, then.” David scoffed, stalking forward into the mire. “Come on, lets get this over with. I hate this place.” Quentin and Dwight nodded their agreements. “I’ll head for the boat. We’re better off in pairs until we can figure out who we’re dealing with.”

            I couldn’t help but feel a chill along my spine. Something was watching us.

            “We need to move.” I whispered, pushing lightly on Quentin’s shoulders. “Something’s coming. I feel it.” Quentin’s head spun round, squinting into the foggy distance. One of his hands gripped my wrist, tugging me along to duck low behind a grimy row boat. It stunk of damp mildew but provided ample cover for us.

            I saw something lurching through the grass. Short, wearing a hoodie, a bloodied mask covering its face, and definitely female. She hadn’t seen us yet, judging by how she didn’t falter from her path.

            “Fuck, it’s them.” Quentin hissed to me. Across the way, I saw David and Dwight tucked against the side of a tree, peering around to watch the killer pace around the mud. The killer was alarmingly close to them, her knife held tightly in her closed fist. “Their name is Legion. The shit thing about them is that there are technically four of them… and it looks like we got Susie.”

            “Susie?” I frowned at the masked girl, taking note of her long, dyed hair. “What’s the difference?”

            “Well, Frank is their leader. He has a habit of sticking to one survivor until they’re dead before moving to the next one.” Quentin began, motioning for me to follow him towards the other side of the map. “Joey’s a lot faster, but he isn’t so focused. He likes attacking everyone at once before picking a target. Then there’s Julie, who acts just like Frank. Now Susie, well, she loves the hunt. She’s incredibly unpredictable.” We knelt by a generator, but just before I could touch it, he stopped me. “The thing about them is that they can tell when two people are working on one of these. It’s best if we split up, cover more ground. Remember what we talked about when it came to generators?”

            “Not to three-gen.” I nodded, remembering Dwight’s review on the maps. “Should I head that way?” I gestured towards the other side of the map, where a dock stood alone against the stark contrast of the moss-covered walls. Quentin nodded, mumbling a soft “good luck” as I turned and made my way through the cattails.

            My sneakers slipped and slid through the mud as I traversed the open space between Quentin and the dock. There wasn’t much cover, only a collection of shipping containers and barrels, so I wasn’t hard to spot. I looked left and right, keeping my feet moving, listening to the generator overhead as I passed under the big boat.

I heard my heartbeat thumping in my ears before I saw her bear down on me. Her knife sunk into my shoulder blade, her laughter cawing out to the sky. “Ohhhh, so _you’re_ the newbie the big lady was talking about! My my my, it’s going to be delightful to carve you open.” I tasted dirt as my body tumbled forward into the mud, my scream dying before it reached my lips and my limbs getting suctioned into the ground. The girl giggled from on top of me, raking her fingers through my hair. “Man, you would think you’ve been here long enough now that you’d know the ropes! But you’ve never met me before, have you?”

            I struggled to at least sit up, but her foot slammed against the back of my skull, smashing my nose into the ground again. I listened to her cluck her tongue, followed by the sound of metal swiping against old fabric. I muttered into the ground, “Well, at least let me sit up for a proper introduction… hard to speak with dirt in your mouth.”

            “Hmmmm, see, I would…” I grimaced when she sat down on my lower back, “but then you might run! Can’t have that, now, can we?” Her knife scraped against my shoulders, toying with the frayed hem of my t-shirt surrounding the deep wound that had plunged into my body. “Anywho, I’m sure they told you my name already. I’m part four of the Legion, Susie!” I turned my head slightly to get a better view of her mask; a bloody, stitched together piece of leather, with thin slits for the eyes. Behind the mask, I could see dark blue eyes, deranged with bloodlust and glee. “And you aaaaare…?”

            “Farisa.”

            “Just Farisa? No last name?” Susie leaned down towards me, inspecting my face. “Ohhh, wait wait, don’t tell me. You don’t remember it!” She cackled, tapping my cheek with her pocket knife. “Man, what kind of lame logic is that? Bet you don’t remember much, do ya?” Her attention shifted away from me, glancing towards the surrounding brush. I could practically see the grin under her mask. “Like moths to a flame, here come your friends! Oh Davey-poo, I see you!”

            A moment passed, and the muscular man stepped out of the cattails, a glare hard on his face. “Why don’t you leave her alone and chase something a bit more entertaining?” He opened his arms wide, a threatening gesture. My heart swelled at the thought of them coming to my rescue, but it was quickly quieted by the knife that found its way to my throat.

            “Now, Davey boy, you know better than to put a shirt on. You’re much more fun when you’re shirtless.” Susie’s voice was an odd purr, somewhere between seductive and amused. “But you’re wearing that ugly ass jacket, and that gargoyle looking kid is here too. And that so-called leader. That’s right, you two, I’m calling you out!” An obnoxious roar erupted from her, bouncing my body underneath hers. “Anyway, I’m not done with her yet, I’m still playing. Go do your filthy generators.”

            “Not without her.” David growled, pointing to my figure underneath her.

            Susie groaned, and I felt her gaze rest on the back of my skull. “You’ll have her back, stop worrying so much. I’m not done yet. Unless we all wanna sit and have a chit chat, huh?” She patted my shoulders, a gesture for the others to come forward and sit.

            I limply raised my hand, “Look, I’ll cooperate, but can I please sit up?” Finally, I felt her weight slide off my back and I could finally rise. I spat out the dirt that had collected in my mouth, thick with spit and blood. “Thanks…” I used the back of my arm to wipe the blood from my busted lip, grimacing at the rusted color. David slowly circled towards me and knelt by my side, inspecting the wound in my shoulder. After a long moment, Dwight and Quentin slowly crept forward from the brush, their eyes flicking between the psychotic girl beside me and myself.

            Susie watched with slit eyes, flipping the knife in her hand and tumbling it between her fingers, waiting for the men to settle themselves. Finally, she took off her own mask, a surprising gesture; she looked incredibly young, freckles dusting her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and now that the mask was off her blue eyes were brighter, alight with curiosity. “So! A little pow wow in the swamp! How is everyone, how’s the survivor camp? Man, I wonder why I look so much like you guys! I could totally pass for Nea, if she weren’t such a bitch.”

            I instantly liked Susie a lot more than before. “Survivor camp is, well… warm? I wouldn’t say comfortable.” I rubbed my neck awkwardly, not sure what to say. “Kinda wish there were sleeping bags or something.”

            Susie nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “Mhm, mhm. We have sleeping bags in Mount Ormond, and Mikey has mattresses in his neck of the woods, but I’m not sure you’d wanna have a sleep over with grumpy pants.” She snorted a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes. “Me and my gang went there to like, spray-paint right? And we saw the pumpkin on the porch and went ‘hey! Cool jack-o-lantern, lets smash it!’ And Mikey came outta the house and shanked poor Joey in the ribs. What an asshole.”

            So Michael Myers treated the other killers the same way he did survivors? I frowned, listening to her, careful to lean away from her waving hand wielding the knife.

            “Its you, Frank, Julie, and Joey that make up Legion, right?” I interjected softly, careful not to upset her. “Where did you guys come from?” As easy as it would have been to read the book I found, hearing it first hand from the killer herself was far better. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

            “Oh! Mount Ormond, duh!” Susie giggled, smiling wide. “Me and the gang went to do some shit, and a janitor walked in on us. So Frank was like, ‘yo, kill him! No witnesses!’ He ultimately did the death blow, but the guy was still moving.” A faraway look crossed the oceans of her eyes, seeming to go back to her retrieval. “He made us each take the knife in turn and rip him open. He was hardly recognizable when we left him. Frank disappeared, and we went into the woods after him, and ended up here.”

            “Did you want to kill him?” To my surprise, it was David who brought the next question.

            Susie was quiet, distant, flipping the knife from hand to hand as though she were thinking on how to answer. “Y’know… I always wondered why we ended up here, in this place. Serving a being we can’t see.” A short laugh came from her lips, twisted with malice. “I don’t know what the fuck Frank got us into, but y’know, I don’t know if it’s better or worse than what we were doing before. Michigan was so cold and damned boring. Here, it’s not so cold, but still kinda boring? Unless I’m chasing you lot around. But I don’t feel like chasing today.” Her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “Just like I didn’t feel like ending that man’s life.”

            Everything that Susie said, no matter how deranged she sounded, supported everything I had come to believe. The killers were human too. They walked like us, talked like us, had feelings like us. They deserved companionship just as much as we do, and Susie was proof. I hesitated, before reaching my hand towards her and placing it on her thigh, “Its… its okay. You were following Frank’s lead, right?” Susie’s eyes had locked onto my hand, focused so intently that I thought she was about to flip her lid. “I know what it’s like, doing something you don’t want to do. But I don’t blame you for it.”

            Dwight and Quentin were staring hard at me. I could feel their eyes, their confusion and their worry. I could understand why, though. I was having a heart to heart with a psychotic teenager about her past life choices, and genuinely caring about what she had to say, something they probably had never thought to do. Even David seemed surprised, keeping a careful eye on Susie to watch her movements.

            The girl in question didn’t move for a while, before a light giggle bubbled out of her, only wrenched into a rough sound by a harsh sob. “Why do you care? You’re one of those survivor runts.” She used her sleeve to rub at her face, inhaling deeply against the fabric. “You’ll just slam pallets in my face the second you get the chance.”

            “But unlike the others, I know that you guys are human, too.” I squeezed her leg, trying hard to get her to understand, I wanted her to understand. “All of you that make Legion, the Wraith, the Trapper, even the Huntress. All of you are human, with rocky pasts that made you prime targets for the Entity. You didn’t choose to be sucked into this realm, nor did you choose the powers It gave you. But that doesn’t make you any less human than us.” Susie’s hand came down to rest on mine, squeezing my fingers with surprising gentleness.

            “Y’know, I like you Farisa.” Susie’s voice was soft, a gentle smile gracing her freckled face. “I mean, I like David too, for different reasons, and I like Dwight and Claudette. There’s a few of you that aren’t so bad. But I like you most.” Her hand squeezed mine again, as though she were afraid to let go. “You guys can do all the gens and go. I’ve enjoyed talking like this. It makes me feel… ha, human, I guess?”

            “You are human,” I corrected softly with a smile. Dwight and Quentin slowly rose, to make their way towards the generators, soon followed by David. It was just me and her now, cross-legged across from each other, and it felt so much better than any interaction I had with any of the survivors up to that point.

*-*-*

            “You did _what?_ ”

            Nea’s voice of indignation broke the silence in the clearing. I grinned at her, delighting in my news, “We sat and chatted with Susie for a while, then did all the generators and got out. No bloodshed, no hooks, no chases. Susie’s actually pretty nice, she invited me to Ormond to hang out soon.”

            “Farisa, you’re fucked up in the head.” Nea hissed, back in my face. “You’re always messing around with those damned things. They’re not fucking human, no matter how hard you try to prove it. They’re fucking monsters who’re out for blood.”

            “Then tell me, if you’re so informed on them, how they speak like us, move like us, look like us? How is it that they can laugh and cry like we do, if they’re not human? Cuz y’know, if it’s not human it doesn’t feel, right?” I narrowed my eyes, feeling my anger rise again. “Susie didn’t want to do what she did, and neither did the Trapper. They’re not all cold-blooded like you assume they are. They don’t all enjoy chasing us through the damn Trials, and they sure as hell don’t enjoy pallets being slammed on their faces.”

            “Well I don’t enjoy getting knives and blades shoved into my body!” She lunged at me, to which I narrowly dodged her grabbing hands. “I don’t enjoy being chased to fucking oblivion, and I sure as hell don’t enjoy being strung up on a hook like a piece of fucking meat!” I cried out as her foot swung under my legs, knocking me to the ground. Before I could even catch my breath, she was on top of me, grabbing at my hair and yanking it.

            “Nea, stop it!” David hooked his arms under hers and pulled up, wrenching the furious girl off me. He crossed his arms over her chest and planted his feet, solidifying his posture so she couldn’t break away. “That’s fucking enough. You both have points, and valid reasons. But you need to listen to each other! Getting angry and attacking each other like this is going to get us nowhere.”

            “Let me the fuck go, David.” Nea wriggled in his arms, her angry dark eyes locked on me. I slowly sat up, fixing my hair and matching her heated glare. “This fucking bitch-”

            “Nea.” Feng Min’s voice broke through the tension. She pushed through the crowd of spectators, looking first at me, then the scrappy punk girl locked in the strong man’s hold. “Go calm down. I don’t want to see any more in-fighting. Settle yourself down and come back when you can talk calmly. David, let her go.” Reluctantly, the man let the girl go. Nea straightened her tank top and stalked away from the rest of us, casting one last glare at me before disappearing into the tree line.

            Finally, Feng Min’s attention turned to me. “As for you… I understand your feelings, but you must understand. We have spent God knows how long outrunning the creatures you’re defending.” I opened my mouth to argue, but she held a hand up, “Be they creatures or human, as you claim, Nea has a right to be angry. You claim we should try to talk to them, but if they wanted to talk, we would have already exchanged words. Just… be careful with which killers you choose to make friends with.”

            I frowned, “I don’t just want to make friends with them, Feng. I want to understand why the hell we’re pitted against each other like this, why they’re here and why _we’re_ here. Don’t you want to know? Don’t you want to figure out why the hell the Entity has us here?” My frustration was building, bubbling to the surface with vigor. “I want to understand what the hell this place is and what the hell we’re meant to be doing here other than die a million deaths! Don’t you want to figure it out too?”

            “Farisa, I do. Don’t you think we haven’t been searching for answers?” The woman’s voice cut sharply, her dark eyes fixating on me. “We’ve been trying to get out of this hellscape for ages. We’re survivors, we’re meant to escape, and yet this is the one damned place we can’t escape from. Now all of a sudden, you’re here and you think we can magically find the answers that the Entity has tucked into its depths? Why don’t you figure out your own name first, then we’ll talk.”

            Her words stung. I could only bite back my retort as she turned on her heel and returned to the campfire.


	14. Chapter 14

            I couldn’t shake it, this never-ending anxiety, the constant sense of being watched. By the shadows beyond the trees, by my comrades, even by the very world itself. Out of the corner of my eye, I would occasionally spot bright crimson, but the minute I try to focus on it, the color disappears, as though it was never there to begin with. I asked David and Quentin if they noticed the eyes, or any flashes of crimson that would burst in the dark like deadly fireflies, but neither of them knew of any such thing. They brushed me off as having been too stressed, too tired, and that I should take a break. Quentin even suggested I visit Evan in private.

            I wanted to, but I had a feeling that these eyes would not approve.

            As I rested by the fire, leaned against one of the fallen logs, I let my head lean back so I could gaze at the sky. For once, the clouds had vanished, revealing the stars and the night that stretched overhead. So many stars, so many constellations, a glittering map of lights that lit our little clearing. Even the moon, a slim crescent, seemed to cradle the stars in a comforting embrace. I felt myself begin to drift…

            _The stars were so beautiful tonight. It made painting the Baltimore skyline worth it. Camped out on my hill, an easel with a blank canvas, an array of paints set beside me in the freshly mowed grass. I looked out over the buildings, watching the city lights twinkle as cars and apartments showed the life that bustled within the limits. The array of streets and roads rose in arcs towards the edges of the city, higher than the smog that clouded the pot-hole dotted asphalt. From all the way out here, it was hard to see all the imperfections._

_One by one, those lights went out. Hospitals, businesses, car lights, even the stars went out. The whole world fell into darkness, enveloped in an unescapable pitch-black void. I held a paint tube in my hand, flinging paint forward onto the blackened canvas. It spattered in wide arcs of crimson, dripping, oozing down the sleek shadows until it, too, was absorbed by the night._

_A figure lurched before me with eyes as red as the blood in my veins. Great antlers stretched beyond its skull, encompassing all the power it imposed upon me. Sleek black claws stretched forth from its massive hands, resembling the hooks and pikes that the Entity preferred to use on its victims. Those were its only distinguishing features; the rest of it was a tall, silent being made completely of the night’s shadows, glistening with its own internal star-scape. It was a beautiful creature, the embodiment of what I wanted to paint, and yet I couldn’t seem to grasp its edges, figure out how I could possibly ever paint such a thing._

_Then I realized; this being wasn’t anything like I had seen in the night sky. This being had been there when I died, reached its claws to me and dragged me from the gulley that had become my resting place. It was the one that stitched me back together before dropping me into the grass of the MacMillan Estate._

_It slithered closer to me, bowing its large, deer-skull adorned head to look into my eyes. “Such a pleasure to finally speak to you…” Its voice grated on my ears, a thousand voices melting together into one cohesive breath of speech. So many accents, so many languages, all somehow melting into one, fluid sentence. The effluvial creature did a slow circle around me, plucking the emptied paint tube from my fingers and forcing it to dissipate into dust. “I have a lot of questions for you, my dear.”_

_I didn’t need this beast to introduce Itself to me. I knew exactly who it was that I was dealing with. I planted my feet, matching Its bloody stare. “You’re not the only one with questions.” My voice was steadier than I felt, cutting through the void and filling the space._

_Its chuckle was like music, jingling and ringing with some unknown amusement. “If you want your name, you’ll have to answer my questions first.” I barely kept myself from flinching away from Its icy cold talon. Frost spread over my skin from Its touch, sinking below the flesh to make my bones ache. “Now, of course, my first question.”_

_The void dropped from beneath us. My stomach lurched into my throat as trees took form, one after another, layer upon layer of old wood and bark piling before each other to deepen the forest. We zipped through them with the force of the wind, moving until we were perched atop a very familiar wooden shack. Its run-down boards were an unwelcome sight, and my injured comrades within even less so. Claudette was doing her best to stitch up an awful looking puncture in her side. Beside her, a generator sat sparking, evidence of an angered killer prowling the grounds of the wreckers’ yard. In the distance, the gas station loomed, its garage door shut against a figure who used it for support. If I squint, I could barely make out Meg’s pink athletics top._

_Just as soon as she stood to go, a monster flashed out in front of her from around the brick corner, taking her by the throat and lifting her high in the sky. She barely was able to scream before a knife mercilessly cut her heart from her chest. Her limp body was then tossed to the ground, discarded to the Entity’s waiting claws in a flourish of bloodshed. Beneath me, Claudette shuddered away the sense that her last comrade had fallen, and that she was now alone._

_“What do you think of my best man?” The Entity nodded Its skull at the masked man. From this distance, it was hard to distinguish any features other than the stark white mask and dark grey coveralls. “I’m sure your little friends have mentioned him to you…” The man disappeared back behind the gas station, beginning his hunt for the last survivor. With a cackle, the shadow beside me leapt forward onto its claws, taking a rigid, canine posture as it landed below in the grass. This startled a flock of crows nearby Claudette, and immediately I knew that the monstrous man had heard the Entity’s intervention. “He’s my best, my greatest find. He practically walked into my claws and welcomed what it was I offered him.”_

_Michael Myers was stalking towards the shack now. Claudette had just barely finished stitching herself up when he was upon her, reaching for her throat with his blade raised for the kill. I wanted to scream, call out to her, do_ something _to help her, but my voice was gone. My mouth was open in a silent scream, my voice box aching at the sound that refused to come out. It was all I could do to watch in mute terror as the kitchen blade sunk into her chest, allowing her liquid life to drain from her and pool at his feet._

_“Terrifying, isn’t he?”_

_The Entity curled Itself around Michael’s legs, rearing up onto Its hind legs to gaze into the pained expression of Claudette. Her skin went pale, her body slumped in his taut grasp, and her life slipped away from her broken body. The man let her drop from his hold, watching her fold onto the blood-dyed floorboards as though she were a used towel, before tilting his chin up to stare into the sky, at me._

_He raised his blade again._

_“My dear Shape, you cannot have that one. Not yet.” The Entity cooed into the man’s ear whilst reverting back to Its four-legged stance. “That one is mine.” The man lowered his knife but did not break his eye contact with me. “What do they call you, Farisa? You still haven’t answered me.”_

_Slowly, I knelt down, peering at the pair from my semi-safe perch on the shack’s roof. Yes, the man was absolutely terrifying to behold. He moved like a shadow, built like a tree yet as silent as the grass. His movements were quicker than lightning, promising a quick, painful death to those unlucky enough to find themselves in his path. His masked expression could haunt dreams more successfully than the dream demon himself._

_I realized I hadn’t said anything yet. I wasn’t sure what to say. The Entity watched me skeptically, pacing at Michael’s feet like an impatient, starving predator. “I’ll take your silence as terror. But to the point of my question.” Its antlers reached higher into the sky, growing, suddenly liquid as they reached their points for my position. I couldn’t bring myself to move, an icy vice holding me in place until It could capture me with Its horns. “I’ve seen what you’ve been doing. Listened to your argument against your friends, listened to the conversations you’ve been having with my beasts.”_

_Its antlers were unkind, ripping me from the roof and tangling through my loose clothing. My heart was skittering in my chest, beating frantically against my ribcage as I drew nearer and nearer to the deity and Its patron. Cold eyes glared at me from behind the white mask, matching the bloody red gaze of the Entity._

_“They are not human, as you presume.”_

_I felt pin pricks at my throat, a hardened point branching around my neck and scraping me with Its rough texture. The Entity held me still in Its hold, allowing Michael to step closer with his knife brandished._

_“My beasts are not for your entertainment. No slumber parties with the teens, no late-night rendezvous with the Trapper, no heart-to-heart talks with the Wraith.”_

_I couldn’t breathe. The bone of the antlers were tight around my chest, my throat, crushing my windpipe and forcing my ribs to press uncomfortably against my lungs. I couldn’t even move my arms to make any sort of feeble attempt at relief. A choked gasp forced its way through my lips, a bit of spittle flying away from my mouth. All the while Michael watched this, unmoving, unfeeling, as though he enjoyed the pain of others. I could practically see his fingers twitching to reach for me and end my life himself._

_My vision was beginning to go fuzzy. I was hearing things from outside the map. I heard the howl of distant beasts, the screams of the others in their own Trials, voices that seemed to pierce through the void and call my name. My body was shutting down, torn between this place and where my actual body lay, separated by mind and body. I saw the Entity’s glaring red eyes fill what was left of my vision, blocking my sight from anything else that was present in this realm._

_“The Shape is the perfect example. Mindless, designed for the death of your kind. He relishes in the hot rivers of blood that flows from your veins when you’re bleeding out.” Something wet lapped against my cheek, tasting my skin, my fear, delighting in my misery. “Perhaps I was too kind to allow my killers some semblance of thought. Maybe I should-”_

_“N-no,” The words forced their way from my crushed lungs. “Let them think. Let them feel. You get more bloodshed if they enjoy it…!” I grit my teeth against the harsh squeeze of the antlers, listening as two of my ribs cracked. My mouth flew open in a cry of pain, and I felt the blood bubbling up my throat to dribble down my chin. I had to push past the pain, “If they don’t feel the misery they cause… if they don’t enjoy it… why would they keep doing it..?”_

_The Entity grew quiet, the antlers slowing their growth. The deity mulled over this information, tossing the ideas in Its head, debating the pros and cons of it before finally grunting and rolling Its bloodthirsty eyes. The creature did not loosen Its hold on me, but instead held me closer to the murderous man that stood beside him._

_“You have a fair point. On to my last question.”_

_The voices outside the Trial were growing louder. I could hear them cutting across the void, filling my ears, so loud even though not a single person stood near. The world was growing darker, and I almost didn’t hear the Entity’s final demand._

_“What did you find in Lery’s?”_

“Farisa! Can you hear us?”

            “What’s going on?”

            My whole body hurt. Released from the vice, my spirit went soaring back into my body, taking with it the pain that the Entity had caused to my spirit form. I could still taste the blood on my tongue, smell the copper and the latex of Michael’s mask. I still remembered the intensity of the Entity’s eyes. I could just barely open my eyes to see the shadows of the survivors above me, before I had to shut them against the pain that blossomed in my skull.

            I could barely manage a broken sob.

            “Sh, hey, calm down-”

            “Will you stop coddling her?”

            “Will you stop being such an absolute-”

            “Both of you, enough. Lay her down, right there. Claudette’s group should be back soon, she can-”

            “She died.” My voice broke the tense air, hoarse from my slowly healing body. “They all did. He was too fast.”

            “How the hell do you know, you’ve been here the whole time!”

            Voices were meshing together. I couldn’t tell who was who or where they were. I could barely feel the ground beneath me, or was I in the air? My body was rebelling against my mind, revolting from the being that had whisked away my mentality. I did feel the shudder that shook my being to my core.

            It must not have been just a shudder. It was enough to rattle my brain in my skull, send my stomach into utter turmoil. I felt hot and cold all at once, pulsing in waves through my exhausted body. My hands reached to grasp something, anything, closing around a fistful of something but I didn’t know what.

            “Farisa?”

            _“You’re not getting away that easy.”_

_Let me go._

_“You want your name, don’t you?”_

_Ice snaked over my skin, but I couldn’t feel it. I was already so cold, so numb. My fingers and bones ached from how deep the sensation went. I opened my eyes again, and I was back in the void, back in the blackness and the grip of the skulled being that made the rules in this existence. Its antlers were painted red with blood, dripping down the old bone to roll like tears from the eye sockets._

_“What did you find in Lery’s?”_

_What did I find in Lery’s? My brain hurt, fuzzy, overwhelmed by the pull between mind and body. The black pool the Entity resided in swarmed around Its tall physique, showing glimpses of the other realms; snowy tractors, rows and rows of corn, tall oak trees downed and stacked in neat piles, rain drops on a skyward reaching temple. For a moment, I thought I saw Evan in one of those places._

_What did I find in Lery’s?_

_The journal. Benedict Baker’s journal._

“Farisa!”

            _“The sooner you tell me, the sooner I release you.”_

“Get the styptic agent from the medical pile. Meg, do you have any adrenaline?”

            _Let me go. My body can’t take this, let me go!_

_“Relax, *******, it only stings for a moment.” Trevor’s voice was in my ears now. The Entity still stood before me, but instead of a skull, it was Trevor’s face. His dimples were prominent on his smiling face, his sun-kissed freckles dappling his otherwise addict-pale skin. Dark circles hung under his dull green eyes, only shadowed more by his greasy black hair. Why did it take me so long to realize he had gone so far? Only now did I see the needle in the Entity’s claws, precariously held between two long talons. I knew what was in that needle._

_I felt it pierce my arm._

My heart was rioting in my chest. I couldn’t hear anything past its race to pump blood through my body, past the roar of my veins in my ears. I was back in the survivor clearing, my eyes wide open, scanning the faces of all the survivors that hovered over me, as well as the storm clouds behind their heads. The dead were coming back, the clouds funneling down towards the ground, towards us-

            _-The Entity was in that cloud, reaching Its talons for my throat._

_LET ME GO!_

_“I found a journal!” I finally cried, my body so close to breaking apart under the stress. “I’ll put it back, I swear!” The Entity clucked Its tongue against the skull’s teeth, slithering ever closer to me. I could feel Its icy breath puffing against my face, numbing my nose. “I was just looking for something to read outside of the Trials-!”_

_“Who was the journal by?”_

_“I-I don’t know, I asked E-” I saw the warning look in the beast’s eyes, “I asked the Trapper, but he didn’t know either!”_

_“Where is the journal?”_

_“I don’t know, I swear!” It wasn’t a lie. Evan could have done anything with the journal by this point. For all I knew, it was back on the shelf in Lery’s Memorial Institute._

Vanessa O’Malley.

            A shriek of pain burst forth from my lips, a verbal manifestation of the sensation that bloomed through my skull and pressed on my temples unforgivably. I was on my hands and knees, scrambling to get away, to move, everything _hurt._ Hands grabbed at my arms and legs, steadying me, holding me in place as I somehow managed to get my bearings now that I was finally, truly back in my own body. Sensations were coming back, slowly but for the pain that pulsed with every beat of my overworked heart. I could feel the sting in my muscles, the icy cold of frostbite on my fingertips. I felt strong arms folded over my chest, holding me steady against the rock-solid heat of whoever it was that held me to them.

            “Breathe, easy…”

            His voice was in my ear, quiet, reassuring. David’s the one who held me, his chest warm against my shoulders. Voices were becoming distinguishable, sights and sounds more bearable. I slowly opened my eyes, staring first at the star dappled sky, examining the curves and puffs of the clouds that had begun to form, before bringing myself to look at the others. I could feel the sweat that coated my skin, cold against my otherwise overheated body. My arms were folded underneath of David’s arms, my body held in his lap securely to keep me from thrashing. I couldn’t move if I wanted to.

            I took a slow breath in, held it, then let it blow out in a long exhale past chapped lips. My eyes shut again, my face scrunching in slight remembrance of the pain but relieved that it was over. All that excruciating agony, torn between mind and body, constantly forced to go back and forth between here and there, for what? That journal was as good as gone, its fate as decided as every creature that existed in this hell.

            “Are you back with us?”

            Slowly, I bobbed my head “yes” against David’s shoulder. Feng Min’s voice was soft and soothing against my sore ears, her hand gentle on my thigh. I heard her take a pause before she spoke again, “What happened to you? You were asleep, and then you began convulsing, and bleeding.”

            So that’s what it had looked like on their end. I carefully pulled one arm from under David’s so I could wipe at my face. I took a deep, shuddering breath, focusing through the ache in my body, “The… The Entity took me, I think? If that’s what you’d call it. It made me watch Claudette and Meg die. It showed me the Shape… It…” I paused, voting against mentioning the demon’s quest for the journal, “It wanted me to understand where I stand, here…” I wish the pounding in my head would go away. “Are they back?”

            “Yes,” This was Claudette’s voice. She sounded tired, but she seemed well otherwise. “I didn’t see you in the Trial. You said you were there.”

            “It put me on the shack, on the roof above you. I don’t think you could see us.” I lifted my head up a little so I could finally open my eyes and look at her, look at all of the survivors that clustered around me, pale faces side by side with expressions that ranged from careful concern to studious contemplation. “I wanted to call to you so badly.”

            “It’s okay.” Claudette’s smile was gentle, her hand reaching to take my numb fingers in her palms. “There’s not much to be done against Michael, other than pray. Your hands are freezing, Farisa…”

            “…My name is Vanessa O’Malley.”


	15. Chapter 15

            After the Entity had released me from Its clutches, everything became confusing and uncertain when it came to the border woods. The shadows held danger, hid the nightmares that lurked beyond. Every time I closed my eyes, I was reminded of the torment of those few minutes I had spent with It and the beast that It favored. I couldn’t get those bloodthirsty eyes out of my head, couldn’t help but think back to that wretched skull and its ooze from invading my memories. Not even sleep could give me any form of solace from the haunting of the Entity.

            I set to scribbling small shapes in the dirt, trying to make sense of where we were, what was happening, anything to keep my mind from wandering back to the deer skull’s horror. The survivor camp, at the heart of everything, surrounded by the bordering forest. The MacMillan Estate took up most of the land to the north. Bordering on its western edge was Coldwind Farm, the second largest portion of land. Finally, completing the circle around the border woods was the Back Water Swamp. Branching off of these territories were Crotus Prenn Asylum, boasting a large cathedral and a broken-down psych ward, the Red Forest with its older than life red oaks, and Autohaven Wreckers, which held many walls made of old cars and other vehicles. Finally, beyond all of it were the more developed areas; Haddonfield, Badham Preschool, Lery’s Memorial Institute, the Meat Packing Plant, buildings in varying states of disarray and disorder that loomed tall over the forest that most of the killers chose as their home turf. Then, even further beyond that, was the Yamaoka Estate and the Mount Ormond ski resort.

            Ski resort… Susie.

            That’s right, Susie wanted to hang out. We had talked about it when we were in that Trial, when she was sitting on my back. We both bonded over our dislike of the spunky survivor Nea while the others completed the generators. She invited me to Mount Ormond to hang out and rest for a bit, maybe meet the other parts of Legion. She had told me about the knife tricks that Joey knew, and how Julie had a surprisingly good singing voice. They seemed cool-

            No, I can’t do that. The Entity was watching, always watching-

            “F- I mean, Vanessa?”

            My hand paused in the dust. I had moved away from my starting point by about five feet. My eyes scanned over the multitudes of trees I had lined in the dirt, the logs and barrels of the Estate and the corn of the farm. How long had I been drawing? My eyes wandered from my barely complete map to inspect my stinging hand. My finger was red and bloody from the amount of pressure I had pushed into the dirt to complete my map. Then I realized someone had said my name.

            Vanessa.

            Vanessa felt so foreign to me. Vanessa. That’s who I was. The artist Vanessa. She never quit when it came to making a name for herself in the world. She was raised in Baltimore, making a living on selling her paintings to passerby, until she finally hit a pot of good fortune. She put her works in a gallery, and big money gentlemen began to buy her creations. She kept creating, they kept buying. Her boyfriend was supportive of the whole endeavor, albeit he was using her for her money. He was addicted to drugs; heroin, marijuana, cocaine, anything to get his fix. One night, he went as far as to get her high, see the world the way he did, try to convince her that he needed the money to keep his world, and maybe if she saw what he did, she could paint “better,” as he put it. After that night, she began to lose faith and trust in him, began to stray away from supporting him and his ever-growing addiction. Items in her house began to disappear, small trinkets at first until finally the furniture had begun to disappear too. Whether he sold it for quick cash or she sold it for food money, she wasn’t sure; she lost track after the couch had been taken.

            Her parents, two good citizens who owned a little flower shop downtown, begged her to come back to them. They promised her a job, pay, and a comfortable place that she could make art from.  But she was adamant about making her name her own way, persevering until she could make it on her own. After all, she had already come so far, what was a little hard work?

            All that work paid off when she was invited to take residence at the gallery. She had a place to hang up her paintings and display them, a way that she could branch into different mediums, explore everything that the art world had to offer. The gallery had a little studio in back that she could work in, so no more painting at home with her boyfriend, Trevor’s distractions. She was finally bringing big money back home, finally able to bring more than just ramen and soup home, maybe even begin to buy her furniture back. Then, she came home one day, excited to tell her boyfriend, about everything that had gone right, only to find that he had done very, very wrong.

            A woman laid in her sheets, with him on top of her. Drug paraphernalia sat on the bedside table, a film of white dust coating the dark wood. Burnt spoons and a lighter sat underneath the lone lamp that lit up the whole room, forcing Vanessa to acknowledge his disloyalty. The disarray of sheets, the clothes that sprawled over the floor and bed frame, the red rashes forming in the crooks of their elbows and the lipstick that smeared over both of their lips.

            She ran him over on her way down the street. Through the blood on the windshield and the tears on her face, she couldn’t see the oncoming eighteen-wheeler barreling towards her, or the double yellow line she crossed-

            “Vanessa?”

            That was a new voice. I slowly brought my eyes up, away from the coarsely drawn images in the dust, forcing my thoughts from my own internal autobiography. Who was this guy? He wore a dark trench cloak, glasses, and unkempt hair. His eyes seemed as haunted as I felt, watching me with a puzzled, yet intrigued gaze. Was he analyzing me? His gloved hand gently took mine, turning my palm up to look at my bloody, dusty hand. Two fingers pushed against my wrist, waited, then moved away again.

            “Vanessa, this is Ben.” Feng Min was beside me. How long had she been there? How long had I been here? Everything felt so confusing now, out of place, and yet everything just repeated, over and over. Trial, death, repeat. Trial, escape, repeat. Trial, return to the fire, then Trial again. Over and over-

            “Vanessa, focus.” Fingers snapped by my eyes. I was wrenched back to Ben, back to where I stood in the clearing. I was here. I was Vanessa.

            I was broken.

            Wait… Ben.

            “Benedict Baker.” I whispered his name, trying to focus on some part of him, to stay here. I studied the lapels of his duster; worn, old, dirty. Pricked with holes from dozens of pins. I saw a chain dully shining from just inside the flap of the garment, presumably attached to a pocket watch. Faintly, I could see the shadow of stubble on his strong-lined jaw. His lips were pressed in a line after I said his full name, “Your name is Benedict Baker.”

            The man before me seemed taken aback, but readily answered, “Yes. I am Benedict Baker, and you are Vanessa O’Malley.” I finally brought myself to look into his dark eyes, seeing the knowledge he held in those pitfalls.

            “You wrote the journal.”

            Silence. No one said anything for a while, not Benedict, not Feng, not any of the watching survivors. No-one but me and Ben knew about the journal, but now everyone knows of its existence. In my peripheral, Claudette and Dwight leaned towards us from their seats on their respective logs. The corners of Ben’s mouth turned down, and his hand flashed out to grab me by the wrist, pulling me closer to him until we were only inches apart.

            “How much did you read?” Benedict’s voice was hushed, urgent, and I got the sense that I had spilled a very big can of beans. His expression was still, not giving away any of the emotion he was squeezing into my flesh; he was very displeased. This man was much more dangerous than he was letting on.

            “Not much. I skimmed.”

            “And where is it now?” His hand tightened around my wrist, dangerously tight. It hurt. His gloves were rough on my skin, his age prominent in the clothes he wore. He knew his way around the realms, so well that I don’t think he’s ever been in a Trial. Everything he learned was in that journal, hidden away just for his eyes. How selfish.

            “I hid it.”

            “You hid it.” He repeated the words, his expression wrinkled into one of exasperation. “Where did you hide it?”

            “With someone I trust.”

.

.

.

            It was time. I felt it.

            Benedict had left some time ago, or was it a short bit ago? Time was irrelevant and impossible to track. After he gave up on the journal’s location, he asked me question after question of who I was, what made me who I was, how I came to be here, and what I was to this new world. I knew he wanted to get my entry into the journal, and a part of me was curious to know what he would write, but he would have to find it first. But what mattered now was the call. The Entity wanted more bloodshed, more horror to satiate its thirst. It wanted me.

            I didn’t want to step into those trees. I froze at the edge, my feet refusing to move any further towards the fate that lurked in those shadows. I didn’t even see Dwight by my side, pressing a guiding hand on the small of my back, gently prodding me forward into the brush. Quentin was at my other side, holding me by the arm so I couldn’t run back. Behind me was Claudette, carrying a quite heavy-looking medical kit. I hope she didn’t overload it.

            The shadows snaked from below, opening pitch black holes beneath our feet. We sunk fast, separated, barreling through the earth at breakneck pace. I didn’t have time to scream or think before I was spat out into a patch of grass in a dark pit of shadow. I lay there, unmoving, unthinking, slowly listening to the crows gather around my position, cawing their raucous laughter into the trees. I couldn’t convince myself to move.

            Alone. That’s what I was.

            My heartbeat began to thump in my ears.

            _B-bmp… b-bmp… b-bmp b-bmp b-bmp b-BMP B-BMP B-BMP-_

“Farisa?”

            _Evan._

            My head picked up slowly, peering through the long fronds to watch his hasty approach. He was a familiar, welcome sight, but my heart was pulsing so erratically, filling my hearing with its terrified beating. I couldn’t block out the crows’ calls amidst the terror of my heart. It was all too much, my panic rising in my throat until I felt myself choking on it. I covered my ears with my hands, pulling at the cartilage until I threatened to rip my own ears off. My breathing faltered, and I could have sworn I just saw the Beast slinking in the nearby shadows-

            “Farisa, stop it!” Strong hands clenched around my wrists, forcing me to let go of the bruised skin. I could smell him, the earthy tones of pine and tree sap, the old blood on his clothes that stunk of rusted copper, the despair that he brought to all the others and this realm. I thought of Michael’s knife plunging into Claudette’s ribcage, thought of the feeling of Evan’s machete cleaving through my throat. I couldn’t get the stench of blood out of my nose. Feebly, I tried to pull my arms away, but it was no use. He had me. I was trapped.

            “Trapper!” Quentin’s voice? My eyes tried to turn away from where they had fixated to the ground, seeing his shoes as he came closer to where we were. More were behind him; I recognized Dwight’s baggy pants and Claudette’s capris. What were they doing over here? Only Quentin dared to get within arms’ reach of us, the other two hanging back.

            “What’s wrong with her?” Evan sounded… worried? Distraught? I couldn’t place the emotion, but it made his voice sound strange to my ears. His hands slid away from my wrists to instead hold me by the elbows, keeping me upright before him. “Come on, now, Farisa, what is going on?”

            I couldn’t take it anymore. My heart felt like it would explode from my chest. I reached slowly towards Evan, grasping his overalls, thumbing the rugged texture of the fabric. I needed to center myself, orient around something. His hands fell away from my elbows, now that I was the one holding onto him. I finally pulled my eyes away from the ground, to wander up his chest to stare right into his mask.

I couldn’t see him beyond the mask. I couldn’t see his eyes.

            Where were his eyes?

            Was this the real Evan? My heart sunk low in my belly. My blood ran cold, my legs working to back away slowly from him. My hands released his clothing to instead grip the grass beneath me, my nerves on high alert. This wasn’t the Trapper. This wasn’t the man I knew.

            The Trapper reached a hand towards me-

            I flung a fistful of dirt at him, rising to my feet so fast I stumbled. I pushed past the other survivors, leaving them behind to face the brute by themselves. I rushed through dilapidated structures, past flame barrels and old logging equipment, until I finally took refuge in a small, two story building. I huddled against a stack of crates, on the opposite side away from the only stairway.

            That wasn’t Evan, it couldn’t be Evan, could it? I should be able to see his eyes, see the hazel depths that offered so much comfort. But all I had seen behind that mask was shadow. Nothing of the man I knew was recognizable from that monster. I could smell the death that reeked from his physique.

            “Vanessa?” Quentin’s voice again. I slowly leaned around the corner of one of the crates, watching him make his ascent up the stairs. His tired eyes immediately settled on me, and he extended a hand towards the stairs, palm-out. Who else was on the stairs? His approach reminded me of one Jake would make towards the crows, so as not to startle them. “Hey, Vee… What’re you doing up here? We need your help with the generators…”

            “I-I… That’s not him.” I looked past him, locking eyes with Claudette, who held the medical kit tightly in one hand. “That’s not Evan, that’s not him. I know Evan, I know that’s not him!”

            “Vanessa, calm down.” Quentin looked back at Claudette, made a gesture towards her, and she disappeared again. “Vee, its okay. Lets just do the generators and go, then. We can talk this out at the campfire, okay?”

            “But Evan-”

            “Is going to let us do the generators so you can go back and rest.” He cut me off before I could finish my statement. “He’s worried about you. Don’t you want to talk to him?”

            “I want to talk to the _real_ Evan.” I scraped the heel of my palm against my cheeks, fighting back the heat that was rising in my cheeks. “That thing down there isn’t him, that’s not him. I know it’s not him!” Splitting pain ricocheted through my skull, disorienting me, making me briefly forget what I was saying. Shadows curled around the edges of my vision, and I knew what was happening.

            It was intervening.

            Quentin was still watching me, his dull eyes flicking between me and the stairs. If there was any time to get it together, it was now. I grabbed his hand and yanked him closer to me, hissing quietly, “The Entity took over the Trapper. That’s not him down there, that’s the damned thing that trapped us here. Just look in the mask; you can’t see his eyes. There are only shadows.”

            “Vee, it’s a very dark map-”

            “ _That’s not Evan_.” I stood abruptly, starting towards the stairs. “I don’t care what you say. That’s not him.” My strides were long as I crossed the distance to the stairs and began my descent downwards. I leaned over to look out the window, watching for a moment to see if he was near, before finally hopping out of the window. I knew there were traps, knew that he had already placed some down and would continue to place them. Knowing the tricks the Entity liked to pull, they were probably coated in coal-black tar, making the contraptions near impossible to see in this terrain. I would have to tread lightly.

            I made my way carefully through the grass, looking left and right as I went to one of the many brick structures that dotted the area. I was careful of the long grass, prime spots for traps. I pulled the long fronds away, checking for a slight glimpse of metal, before passing through it to the generator beyond.

            All at once, two generators roared to life in the distance. I heard the snap of a trap and a scream from Claudette. She had been caught. I swallowed and persevered through the generator, making quick work, increasing my progress greatly until the wires slipped from my fingers… but no explosion happened. I breathed a sigh of relief, pressing on until my generator lit up the sky. Three down, two left-

            He came out of nowhere.

            His machete swung through the nothingness beside my head, cleaving through air, the bloodlust turning the empty eye holes of his mask a luminous red. I ducked left, sprinting for the pallet that sat just a few feet away, but he was quick. I threw myself forward, barely slamming the rotting wood down on his hands. However, my relief was short lived as the pallet burst into nothing, splinters showering into the grass as he righted himself with renewed vigor. Spikes crisscrossed before him, quickly dissipating into the air once the spirit’s fury had been taken upon the old wood.

            _“You could tell it was me.”_

            The Entity. He sounded like Evan, but also like so many more. His own voice reverberated with the power that the Entity held over him, slinking over his huge shoulders like a shroud. The scars on his body seemed to ooze with the black shadows that made the Entity who It was, reopening the wounds into nasty gashes that would surely hurt for a long time to come. If this being was Evan, then the deity that owned this realm had taken control of his body. It raised the bloodstained machete again, high overhead, and I barely missed its downward swipe.

            “I’m not so easily fooled as the others.” I raced towards yet another pallet, moving further into the open. My mind was racing, doing my best to remember where I was going, where I had been, trying to keep an eye out for the others as I barreled into the opening. The Trapper was right behind me, his bloodlust oozing from his mask in bloody rivulets. His blade swiped through the air, and I felt it slice through my shoulders, sending blood flowing down my legs to leave a trail wherever I ran.

            _“Not as fooled, but just as easily hunted down.”_ He was unrelenting in his chase. I knew I was done for. I would die again by Evan’s hands. In my injured state, I could barely see the pallet before me, barely feel my feet carrying me towards it. I heard him raise his blade again, but before he could bring it down to slash me to the ground, I summoned what energy I could to dodge forward, forcing his swing to miss me by mere inches. My hands squeezed around the pallet before yanking it down to smash against his face; this pallet didn’t explode like the last one did.

            It was all I needed. Catching a second wind, I bolted away from him and the pallet at breakneck speed, flying through the Estate with the man barreling down on me. I passed by the remaining four generators, trying to listen for the sounds of tinkering but not able to hear anything past the roar in my ears. He was already on top of me again, his long legs able to make much larger strides than my sprinting could hope to do. Out of options, I jumped through a window, forcing him to miss yet again.

            The last two generators roared to life simultaneously. I listened to the wail of the gates, and I could practically feel the electricity roaring through the map to bring those exits back to life. I turned to dart through another pallet-

            But I wasn’t quick enough.

            He knocked me to the ground, sending me skidding through the dirt until I slammed against a large wire spool. Towering over me, pushing a heavy boot against my ribcage, was the Beast of the realm, leaning so hard that I felt four of my ribs break under the weight. Blood oozed into the dirt under me, making scarlet mud from the parched soil. I grit my teeth as I feebly pushed on the steel-toed shoe, but to no avail.

            “Vanessa!” I heard them calling for me. The gate was closer than I had realized; I could hear the buzz as each red light flickered on. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Quentin, hesitant beside one of the brick walls that stood between myself and the gate. He looked between me and the Trapper, clearly puzzled, but then something must have clicked in his head. I could only hope he understood, “Vee, we’re gonna get you out of here, I promise-”

            “Just go, Quentin!” I shouted at him, “Don’t kill yourself to save me. Just go!” The monster turned his head towards the gate, locking sights on Quentin. The pressure of the boot lifted, leaving me coughing in the dirt, bleeding out as the Entity sought to play with Its victims.

            What I didn’t expect was Claudette to be at my side as soon as the Trapper’s back was turned. “The exit gate is open on the other side of the building; you have to run. And run _fast_.” She opened the medical kit and pulled out a long syringe, filled with a bubbling pink fluid in it. I swallowed hard, remembering the night Trevor had stuck me with something similar, “The minute this is in you, go. Got it?”

            She didn’t wait for my reply. I felt the sting of the needle, felt the icy serum race through my body like liquid lightning. My wounds stitched themselves closed, my blood replenished itself, and I was on my feet as fast as I could be. I grabbed the girl by the wrist, yanking her along with me, leaving the discarded medical kit behind. There was no time to go back for it; the Trapper had caught on and was upon us.

            We rushed through the gate, the monstrous beast slowing to idle by the big, steel doors. Just before I went through to the forest, I looked back at him, examining him up and down, urging Claudette to rush ahead of me.

            “I may be easy to hunt, like the others,” I began, glaring at the Entity, “but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have the will of the others. Beat me down, slash at me, do whatever. The laws of your realm make me come back anyway. And the longer we go at this, the more we learn.”

            The Entity was silent, watching me, twirling the long blade in his hand in slow circles. Then, without warning, the weapon and the creature dropped, just as a large cloud of black lifted from its muscled shoulders. The Entity wafted towards me, deer skull taking shape whilst it solidified into Its mystifying being.

            I couldn’t move. I was frozen in place, so close to escape and yet I couldn’t budge. Long claws reached forward and caressed my chin, just as the skull bowed down so Its crimson gaze could focus on mine. _“I don’t care about how many times you live or die. I care about how my creatures learn to tear your team to shreds. You may know a few of my killers, even befriended them. But don’t think I don’t have a spy amongst your ranks as well-”_

The discarded machete cleaved through the skull, and the Entity dissipated into mere wind. Evan stood before me now, both of us watching as the beastly creature cackled and rose into the clouds above.


	16. Chapter 16

            The Trial was over. Everyone had escaped, moving around the outer border to collect around the outside of my gate. They were all waiting for me just past the escape border, their eyes betraying the thoughts that each one of them had, expecting us to move further apart and go our separate ways now that the Trial had come to its close. Claudette appeared to be ill at ease, standing behind Dwight as she watched the large man from a safe distance, using the young man though he were a body shield. Quentin, on the other hand, let his high tops carry him closer to us, extending a long-fingered hand for me to take. It was time to go back.

            But I hesitated. I looked back at Evan, who looked groggy and a little worse for wear. He ran a large, bloody hand over his face, then appeared perplexed to find the dark liquid staining his skin. Slowly, carefully, I let myself get near him, still cautious just in case the Entity decided to make a reappearance and end my life then and there. My hands reached forward to hold onto his, embracing the stickiness on his skin to make some kind of an attempt to comfort him. However, as much as I wanted to say his name, I knew better than to say it in front of the others, “Trapper, are you okay?”

            “Yeah, my head just hurts.” He flexed his hand against my fingers, turning his palm down so he could hold tight to my hand. I could tell this hulking man wasn’t sure if he was truly awake yet, still recovering from the Entity’s quick retreat. I felt sorry for him; I knew how awful Its possession could be. “…What happened? I came in for the Trial, then everything went black.” He frowned hard, pinching the bridge of his nose with his other hand whilst scrunching his eyes closed. “My head feels like its fucking splitting open.”

            I looked back at my group, then at Evan again. He looked so awful, and I felt so terrible for him. For as big as he was, he looked so small and vulnerable in that moment, as though the survivors he had been chasing could suddenly turn on him and actually _win_. A thought crossed my mind, an idea but probably not a popular one. I took a shaky breath, before exhaling it all in one quick phrase, “Why don’t you come back to the camp with us? Have some soup, sit and rest, something to make you feel better.” I could hear my teammates shuffle their feet behind me uncertainly, but I pressed on, “You don’t have to come into the clearing, if you don’t want to. But you look awful, and I think some food will do you some good.”

            I expected him to refuse my hurried offer. I expected my teammates to voice their opinions, call me nuts for suggesting such a thing. I even cast a worried glance over my shoulder at their stunned faces, tried to gauge what it was they were thinking, but came up empty on whatever could possibly be running through their heads. Evan’s hands gently squeezed mine, bringing my attention back to him, as he softly spoke, “I won’t come into the clearing, but I’ll walk you back. The Entity has been bold lately, and I want to make sure none of Its creatures tear you apart in the woods.”

            “Creatures?” Dwight muttered, taking two cautious steps towards me. “What creatures?”

            “The animals of the forest. The Entity uses them for Its eyes, sometimes to satiate Its lust for blood.” Evan looked between the survivors, then nodded to the woods beyond. “I have a feeling the beasts will be out in force.” His words hung in the air, heavy with the prominent danger that faced us. The survivors cluttered closer together when the sound of a low howl bellowed over the treetops. The sound beckoned beasts, making their calls into the darkening clouds whilst the beating of feathers and wings overhead made the others flinch.

I shuddered away the ominous sensation that creeped along my spine. I could only image that the Entity wanted to ambush them on their way back and dispose of them, even if only for a little while. I could still see those bloodthirsty eyes in the back of my mind. Not wanting to dwell much longer on what dangerous things could be lurking, I looked to the far more dangerous, large man, “Thank you.” I gave him a warm smile, which seemed to reassure the others; we were out of the Trial, we would not get hurt. “Why don’t we all go back then?”

*-*-*

            “What in the hell is that thing doing here?” Nea’s voice was incredulous. The spunky brat had become our personal welcoming committee, always there when my team came back to critique and groan at who did, or didn’t, make it back. Honestly, there are times when I wonder if she has anything better to do than moan and groan, but in this realm, the thought is short-lived. There’s nothing to do here other than wait for our fellows to return and blast them for details about the Trials. She blazed past the fact that everyone in my team was accounted for, but instead focused on the man that still stood in the shadows of the trees, just shy of being tall enough to blend into them. The attention of the others around the campfire turned to us, flicking from one face to another until they, too, caught sight of the shadowy predator. Laurie rose from her seat, squaring her shoulders against the figure.

            “ _He_ walked us back from the Trial.” I retorted, sending a glare her way. I didn’t have the patience for her nonsense today. “I told him he could come have something to eat. This Trial-”

            “Back up. You told it that it could come back to _our_ safe zone for something to eat?” Nea crossed her arms over her chest, her green eyes hot with hatred. She was not going to let this go anytime soon, would she? That’s Nea for you; the grungy, pissy, moody almost-adult that never seemed to have anything but bitching on her mind. This new visitor was the perfect fuel for her to go on yet another tirade, “Are you fucking insane? Those things don’t eat! And you brought it here anyway?”

            “Farisa, I should go.” Evan’s voice rumbled behind me. I could hear his muffled footsteps in the foliage, toe to heel as he backpedaled deeper into the woods. I reached back and grabbed his hand without needing to look, holding fast even as he tried to pry himself away from my needy grip. “Farisa. I’m not welcome here, I told you.”

            Only then did I turn and see his composure; uncomfortable, worried, exhausted, defeated. He was done fighting for one day, but I wasn’t. “We need to tell them what happened. Your input is just as good as mine.” I squeezed his hand tightly, pleading for him to understand. “Please. They won’t listen to just me-”

            “The fuck you on about?” Nea’s voice hissed through the air, forcing my eyes to roll and return to her. “Maybe we’d listen if you didn’t speak fucking nonsense all the damned time! ‘Killers are human, Ben’s got some secret journal, the Wraith has _feelings_ ’,” She spat the last word with acidic contempt. At the Wraith’s mention, I could practically feel Evan bristling behind me. “First you make sleepover plans with Susie at that rundown ski resort, and now you’re bringing them to our campfire?”

            “You don’t know what happened!” I was seething, but I kept most of my frustration under a tight leash. I would not raise my voice against her. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what I saw, or what any of us saw. You didn’t see the true beast of the realm, Nea. If you would just _listen_ -”

            “There you go, more nonsense!” She was on her feet now, heavy combat boots crunching over dead leaves whilst approaching me with malice. Evan squeezed my hand harder the closer she got, and I wondered for a moment if he would step out of the shadow if it meant forcing Nea back again. “You honestly think that the killers aren’t beasts? And now, all of a sudden, there’s one super vicious beast that trumps all of them?”

            “Yes.” Evan’s voice sounded dark, albeit still groggy. The punk bitch’s burning eyes whipped from my face to stare down his mask, the hatred never wavering even as he continued, “Powerful enough to take over one of us to hunt you lot down. I can’t say for certain if he can take over more than one of us at a time, but It’s done it and It will do it again. Do you really want to risk your fucking neck against the Entity, or would you rather it be one of us?”

Something in Evan’s physique must have convinced her; she backed down slowly, returning her hateful eyes to me before finally grunting and moving away from us. She was without an argument, without some witty retort, and I was grateful for Evan’s leveled voice. All it had taken was bringing one of the survivors’ worst enemies to our safe zone to finally get some sense into Nea’s head. But even as I watched her storm to the other side of the clearing, I couldn’t help but try to understand her side; she had been here much longer than I, and clearly faced worst things than I had in this realm where not even death was an escape. Something must have happened to her to warrant such strong feelings towards the Entity’s pets, and I wanted to understand why. It would be something that she and I would need to sit and truly discuss, heart to heart… if I can ever get close enough to her to have such a conversation.

            “You can step into the light.” Claudette’s voice brought my wandering mind back to the clearing, only now alerting me to the several sets of eyes that were still settled on me. Between Claudette and Evan was a huge gap of space occupied by myself and a line of bushes, the last barrier between the woods and safety. I was at least warmed to know that Claudette trusted me enough to follow along with my idea. “But could you leave your, um… could you leave it outside the clearing?” She meant the machete, of course. I could understand why she would be insistent on leaving that outside of his reach.

            Evan slowly nodded, mumbling his affirmation whilst dropping his machete against the full trunk of an old oak. In the light of the fire, I could see the lines of exhaustion wrinkling his face, even under the mask, and the heavy weight of the last Trial slumping down on his broad shoulders. His overalls looked shredded and worn out in some areas, physical signs of an internal battle he had fought and ultimately lost. The metal protrusions jutting forth from the man’s shoulders and arms were coated in fresh blood, though not any of ours. At the base of the curved steel, his blood was pooling and oozing, aggravated by the recent unwanted possession. The Entity must have used the metal rods as leverage to force him under control.

            Jane, a fellow survivor, moved away from where she had been sitting by the fire, making room for the large man on the fossilized oak while also putting a small space of distance between herself and him. I liked Jane; like me, she was kind of an artist, set on making it her own way in the world. Whether she shared my views on the killers or not was beyond me, but she didn’t immediately run from the sight of him. She actually seemed kind of worried to see the thick red globs that rolled down his muscled form. Even more surprising was how she reacted when Evan greeted her with a nod; she had returned the gesture in kind, and even offered a smile. Maybe not all of the survivors hated the killers as much as Nea did, after all.

            “It’s good your team came back in one piece,” I heard her before I saw her; Feng Min moved out of the crowd and took a seat across from us, capturing both me and Evan in her steel gaze. I could see the rigid posture of her shoulders and knew that she was not entirely trusting of the man that sat by my side. “I was not expecting guests, Vanessa. But I am grateful he comes in peace.” When she said my name, I felt heat rise in my cheeks; I hadn’t told Evan my name yet. The opportunity never came up between the discovery and the Trial, and I knew that he was staring me down for an explanation. “Now as for this Trial you just came from. I couldn’t help but feel alert the entire time you were gone… Something was very wrong, wasn’t there?”

            “Which is something we need to talk to you about,” I leaned a little closer to her, careful to drop my voice lower, “but maybe not with so many ears around.” Feng Min cast a slow look around the group, pausing once on me. I saw the suspicion burning in her eyes, the wonder and curiosity battling against her own logic. She still didn’t trust me, and she was questioning my trust in the rest of them. I couldn’t blame her for thinking that way. “I know you have no reason to believe me, and I know you still don’t really trust me, but I’m sorry, so much has happened that I can’t _not_ talk about it with you.”

            “You spent eight Trials curled up against a tree.” The gamer girl yawned and put her chin in her palm, her supporting elbow braced against her knee. My face flushed at her pointed look, reminding me of the frame of time right after my own possession. “That was before Ben arrived. Then you spent another five pacing the perimeter. You had a shit ton of time to talk to me about what has happened.”

            “That was before this Trial, Feng!” I squeezed fistfuls of my hoodie in my shaking hands, trying to push down the embarrassment of my lack of mental stability. “Something happened in there. And I can’t say it without…” I made my voice a soft whisper so only Evan, Feng and I could hear, “…without causing panic. That’s why I need to speak to you alone.”

            “We both do.” Evan intercepted our conversation. I could see Feng physically startle at his speech, even though her face remained placid. “I know we’re not on… good terms. But this is something that affects both our worlds. It sucks as it is now, this realm, but I fear if we don’t communicate, it will get a whole lot worse for all of us.”

            Feng watched the two of us, her dark eyes flicking back and forth. She had her hands folded now, pressed to her lips whilst the gears in her intelligent head turned. Even the more curious, social survivors had begun to cluster around her, burning with curiosity and careful concern while keeping their eyes trained on Evan. They would not so easily forget about his presence.

            I was getting the feeling that she was not going to help us. Of course she wouldn’t, why would she? I shouldn’t have gone to her for assistance in the first place, I should have just tried to figure it out between me and Evan. It wasn’t something we couldn’t handle… was it? In any case, I figured it was safe to assume that whatever business I thought I had with Feng was done with. I inhaled slowly and brought myself to my feet, “Just… forget about it-”

            Evan’s fingers captured my wrist, prompting me to wait. His other hand took hold of the mask that covered his face, slowly undoing the cords that kept the article in place so he could lower it to his lap. Several survivors took a step back in shock, but Feng kept a calm, still expression. The other survivors had never seen him in the light of their campfire, let alone see the tired expression he wore on his face, visible to all who looked. Even I could see a change in him; he had dark circles under his eyes, fresh cuts sliced deep into his cheeks, and his hazel hues barely gave away the pleading desperation to just _talk._ For him to take off his mask in front of his prey, really show the face that he hid away from them, was an impressive move to try to push his peace. Only now did Dwight come forward, tapping her shoulder lightly as he sat next to her. “We should hear them out, Feng.”

            She was quiet for a while longer, studying Evan’s face, the marks on his skin, everything that both humanized and made him monstrous. It was easy enough to do; he was huge, too big for any man to be, with strength to match. To top it off, no man would survive with the metal that pierced his skin and created the silhouette any survivor could recognize. But he had a face, one that every single survivor had seen now, a voice that spoke English and the ability to understand and portray emotions. As much as they wanted to be as monstrous as they made him out to be, the fact that he was here now and willing to try to work with them was a testament to his humanity.

            After what seemed like ages, Feng pried her stare from Evan to instead share a long look with Dwight. Something of a thought passed between them, before her lips were moving, “Vanessa... As much as I know just how desperate you are to voice your… concerns with me,” my heart sunk into my stomach, and I felt the hope drain from my limbs with every word she leveled at me, “they seem to be only that. Concerns. You don’t have solid evidence other than a fever dream and whatever it is you claim to have happened in this last Trial. I can’t place my trust or waste my time on someone who has yet to trust the rest of her team… not to mention she spends most of her time with the ‘others’ than with her fellows.”

            That stung, but she had a point. I hadn’t spent nearly as much time as I should have getting to know the others. I knew their names, but not much beyond that. Thankfully, I didn’t have to dwell for too long on this fact before warm bowls were being pushed into unknowing hands. I looked in alarm to Claudette, who gave me a sympathetic smile. It was more alarming to me that she actually handed Evan the bowl herself, rather than set it down just within his reach. That took bravery on her part… maybe I should learn more about everyone here.

            Feng took the soup’s arrival as a cue to drop the subject. “Take some time to think about this, Vanessa. I’ve no doubt you believe what you saw, but there needs to be some semblance of trust before we can really believe what you say. I hope you understand.” Quietly, she excused herself from the fold and grabbed a second bowl, making her way to Nea. No doubt to soothe her spirit. Evan’s hand slid away from my wrist now whilst he raised the soup to his lips with the other, keeping his eyes down to not make eye contact with any of the watching survivors, and I couldn’t blame him for it. Had the situation been different, it would have been comical, watching the others gawk at him rather than enjoy their own meals. No wonder Evan didn’t want to look anywhere but the ground.

            I just wish it could be like this with everyone, no matter what side they’re on.


	17. Chapter 17

             All It could do was watch as one of Its prized killers left the walls of Its Trials and escorted the prey It had collected for him back to their circle. It still retained some of the shock from having been sliced through by the creature It had possessed, but no matter; punishment would be doled out later. After all, this could be entertaining. A killer, surrounded by the very thing it hunts… All eyes on him, flashlights at the ready, perhaps sharp objects in the hands of the vile humans that fueled the bloodlust of Its beasts. Oh yes, this could be entertaining indeed.

             It slithered along the shadows, tailing the ragtag group through the oaks and birch trees. Never had It before tailed alongside the creatures that It had collected and housed in Its realm. It knew of the camp they thought of as “safe,” and the stockpile of items that they collected from the Trials and arenas they ventured to often enough. It knew how to fetch the creatures from their little ring when the time had come for the Trials. But It hadn’t thought to actually sit for long enough to watch and see what they did with their time.

             Maybe now, It could.

             The survivor that always seemed to bully Its monsters- Nea, if It recalled the name correctly- didn’t seem to level her hateful spite towards just the beasts. Venom spewed from her lips towards Its newest selection, the survivor that caused so many issues so far. It expected Vanessa to retaliate harsher than she did, but instead the Trapper was the one to step forth in her defense. And within moments, the heat had died away, and the punky brat was finding herself a small corner on the far side of the clearing. Odd, the others had fought so much more frequently and with much more vigor when there were only a few of them. Had more survivors caused the hate amongst each other to die a little? Had It a face underneath the bone skull, it would be furrowed with confusion and thought. Maybe adding so many new survivors had forced the fear to deteriorate, and anger to waver between the weaklings.

             As It paced away from the fire, leaving a small present for the leader-boy and his odd… past time, It began to think. How could It re-instill the fear? Make the survivors go against each other more so? What would it take to force the survivors to behave in an “every man for himself” way? Clearly, Vanessa was already out on her own, with few that would be willing to help her. Of course, one of those who would help her knew better than to go against his duties as a killer… Or would he? Even the fear of Its killers was dwindling from the survivors…

             Perhaps it was time to bring a new killer into the realm.

             Its essence sunk low into the ground, dissolving through the particles and dusting past the dirt and leaf debris. The further It fell into the leaf matter, the darker it grew, until finally It had manifested in the core of Its realm. A dark, ominous pit, lit only by little balls and cells that glowed orange and yellow with dull power. Shards whispered past, blue with red centers, storing the shed blood and sacrifices from all the Trials It had hosted. A set of Its claws plucked one such blood shard from the trail and crushed it between Its talons, absorbing the sacrifice and replenishing Its energy.

            What could pass for a sigh slid between the teeth of Its skull, before Its form shuddered into a more material being. That was better. Taking over the Trapper had taken a lot of Its energy and had reminded It why the beast of a man had been chosen in the first place; angry, stubborn, huge, and strong. Perfectly capable of hunting down children half its size, born more than a hundred years after he was. At least, from the time period he had been chosen from.

            What time period would this newest killer come from? Its mind raked through the men and women that could pose as possibilities, both from the humans’ imaginations and real killers that had done so much damage to their populations. Jack the Ripper could be a good candidate, but then again, he seemed like he would be a handful. If It chose Chucky, It would have to make that tiny puppet rather strong to be able to drag bodies across the grass… Its gleaming red eyes settled on the void, observing the scenes that played out in the shadows, of the realms and the monsters and victims that roamed within Its borders. Momentarily, It gauged Its own energy, flexing Its claws and testing Its materialization against a still image of the meat packing plant. It had strength for a killer, but no more than that. Ashley Williams had been a struggle to abduct into this world, and it had taken the Entity a majority of Its power to manage to strip the man to be of more… controllable measure. And to attempt to copy yet another place for this killer to lurk would take up more power than It could manage to conjure up, even with Myer’s bloodthirst. The other killers had begun to fall behind in their kills, which had lessened the flow of blood shards to Its core.

            A killer that travels for his prey would be ideal, and It had an idea of who to pick.

            With a flex of Its long talons, the Entity warped through the void of the realm, soaking up a few more pieces of the blood shards as It searched Its way through time and space. Past Babylonian temples, Egyptian pyramids, Mayan temples, ancient civilizations rising and falling within seconds of the Entity’s passing. It watched as Columbus landed in the Americas, colonization, war, and finally peace again.

            The Entity found Itself in the wet heat of Florida, gazing at a rundown, old house that creaked and moaned in the summer storms. A man was inside, a twisted one with a skill for the knife and the pen. If It went back into the past week or so that this man had gone through, It could see everything; pages upon pages of writings and articles covering killings, of a man they had come to calling “Ghostface.” But unbeknownst to the publishers, the very man they were hunting down was the man that wrote of his killings, inflating his ego and his cover, until finally this man decided it was time to move on.

            Danny Johnson was the killer It sought. He meticulously calculated who to kill, when to kill, how to kill, and how to lay low. This man was perfect for what he wanted. The Entity slithered closer, sinking itself into the wooden boards to get a closer look at the man with the newspaper. He stood in the kitchen, soaking in the afternoon heat and humidity while his thumbs perused the limp parchment. Looking past the man’s thin shoulders, It could see the name “Jed Olsen” listed alongside the Roseville Murders.

            _Perfect…_

The Entity reached within Itself, summoning the strength from Its core to billow out through the living as a tangible, icy cold fog. It thickened and swirled over the walls, across the floor…

*-*-*

            Where…?

Danny rubbed his masked face, taking a moment to run a gloved finger along the white ridge of the latex. Last he recalled, he had heard a woman’s shriek before the fog rolled out, and then he was here in the woods. Had he fallen asleep while running? He looked down at himself, cloaked in a sleek black robe that showed not even a hint of the man he was beneath. Well, at least black was slimming? The blade in his hand twirled between his long fingers while he took a long, slow look at his surroundings. Crushed cars, a run-down gas station, and a creaky, dilapidated shack could be seen immediately from where he stood.

            Alright, maybe he could-

            The second he tried to turn around to go back, a brick wall materialized before him. No-go. Great, cool, whatever, guess he’d see what’s in this place, other than what he could already see. But then, how the hell was he seeing these weird red outlines? They looked like outdated generators, and he felt compelled to go towards it.

            Something compelled him to be quiet. Stealthily, swiftly, he made his way around a wall of crunched metal and aluminum, crouching low as he got closer and closer. He heard the sounds of clanking and cogs being worked into the machine, dealt by deft hands. He leaned his head around the tree he had taken refuge behind, and the silhouettes of a few people lit up white, turning a bloody red by the moment. He would wait… he could strike soon if they didn’t notice him.

            He watched them closer now; two girls, one with dark hair yanked into a high bun on the top of her skull, the other much… plumper. Like, holy hell, she had quite the curvaceous figure. A brief thought of carving into that glorious-

            His heart thumped hard in his chest. He needed to strike now. The second that generator lit up, they would see him.

            He flashed forward, sinking his blade into the closer girl and downed her instantaneously. His fingers wrapped tight around her bun, fitting just inside the palm of his hand. Funny, she was kinda small, didn’t seem like the type to be fixing beaten-down generator in who-the-fuck knows where. Danny pulled her hair back so he could look into her dark, calculating eyes, studying the fear and confusion that burned in those depths. He wondered for a brief, fleeting moment what her name was… then shrugged and stood, flipping her onto his shoulder easily enough. Maybe after he dealt with this tiny thing, he could find that big booty girl.

            The girl’s screams echoed through the trees and off the metal walls of the cars. It was delightful to listen to, and sent a jitter tumbling through his spine. His thirst was growing for more, he wanted to kill more. A shadow whispered in his ear, goading him on, guiding him to the other girl, and eventually to two more people. A man, a little gruff around the edges with an ever-burning cigarette, and another girl.

            She was something… different, if that could be said. She didn’t really seem like the others. Spunky hair, a hateful look in her eyes. She almost bit me when I picked her up. What a monstrous girl she is.

            Danny immediately liked her a whole lot more. Maybe he could have chat with her, learn a bit more about why they were running around the woods playing mechanic.

            He heaved her up onto one of the many hooks that seemed to be abundant around this area, watching the blood drain from the newfound hole deep through her chest. He watched for a moment, then grinned behind his all-concealing mask. “Hey, so. I’m sure you noticed I’m new here.”

            “Obviously.” Her word was spit at him. Ooooh, feisty.

            “Can ya tell me a bit about where I am? ‘Fraid I’m a bit lost.” The words rolled off his tongue easily enough, but why did he sound so… breathy? Like he was trying to breathe through the Floridian humidity, except it was so thick nothing but air came out. “Y’see, I was chasing some screaming through the fog, right? Then I happened to find myself here-”

            “So instead of stopping to ask questions first, you found my friends and decided you want blood now, questions later?” The girl rolled her eyes at him, crossing her long arms over her bloody chest. The sass practically dripped off her with every crimson droplet that plipped into the soggy grass. “Man, how smart you must be. The hell even are you?”

            A grin she could never hope to see crossed his face. “The name’s Ghostface. And yours?”

            “Nea. Horrible to make your acquaintance.” Her hands raised over her head, gripping tight to the rusted metal. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She swung her legs forward, giving herself enough momentum to wrench herself free from the hook. “I’m just gonna fuck off now, big bitch is in the corner over there.” She gestured with her thumb to the corner where the dilapidated shack is. “Run ya later.”

            Danny was stunned, watching her run from him and into the shelter of the trees. He didn’t even think to race after the scrawny thing. She wasn’t worth the time, and he figured she may be fun to chase down later when she had her wits back about her. Besides, he had a large lady to carve into.

*-*-*

            It was working.

            It watched from above, a grin wide on Its bony face. The Ghost was doing the work it wanted, chasing down the little sheep and sinking its blade deep into their bodies. It relished in the crimson mud that began to make huge patches through the Trial, staining the cars, the generators, the wooden shack in the corner. The man’s dark cloak was becoming maroon in color, changed from the pristine black that the Entity had been generous enough to gift it with. It thought it strange that the man had taken an odd liking to the brat the killers called Nea, but It could let the fondness slide, for a little. Danny seemed to like chasing and hearing her scream. That was good enough for the Entity.

            Now, the brat was last alive, her comrades all sacrificed into shards that It could easily absorb. Already, It felts the strength spent capturing this man returning, and knew that It had made the right choice in picking him. He was creepy, stealthy, bloodthirsty. The Entity’s greed was satiated as the short knife plunged into Nea’s collar bone, throwing her bloody figure into the grass. All that was left of her were the screams that penetrated the wind, and then silence.

            She was dead.

            The Entity cackled slowly, floating down to rest upon Danny’s shoulders. “ _Well done, my Ghost. Very well done indeed, for your first culling. All four dead, and so much blood spilt in so little time. Such a wonderful performance._ ” Its claws materialized into hardened carapaces, stroking over the man’s thick hood. “ _How did it feel?_ ”

            “Aight, hold on, before you go brooding over me like some proud mother hen,” The man threw up a gloved hand, surprising the deity from Its perch on his shoulders. “Where the hell am I?”

            “ _Take solace that you won’t be found here for your crimes, and you can kill as much as you please here._ ” The Entity swerved around the question, moving before the man to gaze into the elongated, ghostly mask. “ _There’s a lot of little pockets for killings to be done. There’s here, which is Azarov’s Wrecking Yard, or I could send you to Gideon’s Meat Packing Plant… or maybe someplace dark, where you can creep along easily. The MacMillan Estate’s perfect for that._ ”

            “Slow your roll, wispy dude,” Danny groaned and walked through the black mist that composed the Entity, swirling Its essence around his gloved hand until the condensed air formed a pocket-sized cyclone in his palm. The Entity glared at Its newest prize from Its resting place in his glove. “That doesn’t really answer my question, now, does it?”

            The Entity was beginning to weigh the pros of this killer against the cons. He asked too many questions, but perhaps if It humored him with the right answers… “ _Well, that’s because I have no answer for you. I am the deity of this realm. I created it, in a pocket of space and time. I plucked you from the 1990s. I have beings from the 1800s, I have others that come from your time period, I’ve one from Babylon… I can pick and choose who comes, where they’re from, whether they have your job or if they’re less fortunate. All of this is to please my killers, such as yourself… A playing ground full of people to satiate your bloodlust with. Doesn’t that sound nice?_ ”

            Danny was quiet for a moment, looking down at the whirlpool of fog in his hand, expression obviously unreadable due to the long white mask. “It… does sound nice. A little too nice. Why the hell-” The mist leapt away from his hand, back onto his shoulders while expanding bit by bit, stretching out clouds until they took form as dark, elongated wings. Beady red eyes glared down at the mask, distracting the man from the changing scenery; trees disappeared, sinking away into the shadows until all that was left was the grass beneath their feet and the ever-present moon that waxed overhead. Finally, the Entity reached a clawed bird foot out to squeeze a fold of fabric on the hood, forcing his head to turn and look around the darkness of the void they now stood in.

            “ _All you have to do is kill. Do not worry about anything else. Not the victims, not the areas, not the other killers._ ” The Entity hobbled down the length of his arm to peck at the blade in his right hand, casting another beady stare up at the mask. “ _Satiate your bloodlust, and you will satisfy me. That’s all there is. Be good, and I may reward you with whatever it is you could want-_ ”

            “A journal.” He was quick to react to the crow’s terms. “I just want a journal. To write in. I won’t let you down.”

            The hellish bird rose in wisps from his arms, taking with It the darkness that had surrounded them. The tall trees were back, darker now, taller. Rain fell from overhead, splashing against an old stone temple. It didn’t take him long to recognize the familiar outline of the old generators and knew what it was he had to do.

            The moment he rounded the corner and downed his first victim, who he later figured out was named David King, he screamed with terrifying glee, “Wazzuuuuuuuuuuup!?”


	18. Chapter 18: Special Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend, who proofreads this work, asked if he could write a chapter, and this is what he came up with. I did some editing, but otherwise all the content is his original writing. Hope you enjoy!

_Sigh…_ I really wish this place had baby powder 

            I’ve been here hell knows how long, but by this point everyone knows who I am. My name’s Dwight Fairfield, and I kinda have a reputation as a self-proclaimed leader. During trials, I do my best to bring out the best in my fellow survivors (sometimes to their annoyance). But being here for so long, you tend to get restless in a certain way. The female survivors are nice and all but there's one woman here that I have my eye on…

            The Huntress.

            It all started when I was working on a generator with David at the Trapper’s stomping grounds when I heard her unmistakable humming in the distance. Looking over from the generator, I could see her; tall, muscular, all the while maintaining a striking feminine charm. The sound of her humming is always so relaxing, drawing you in with its sweet lullaby, but we all know better than to get too close. Forgetting what I was doing, the generator sparks almost angrily in my face. This got her attention and now she's making her way towards us

            "Way to go, locker boy," Sighed David as he took off towards a set of bricked structures looming in the distance.

            Following his lead, I burst into a sprint with the hope of putting some distance between us. Yeah, turns out her aim with those hatchets is better than I thought. The force of the back of one of her hatchets crashed into my shoulder, and I was incredibly lucky it wasn’t the blade. I stumbled over my feet, falling to the ground with a heavy thud. The sound of her humming gets louder as she picks me up, and for a moment I was in awe of her strength. I could feel her shoulder muscles bulging against my belly, and my mind began to wander.  

            "The hell is that!?" She twitched and dropped me to the ground in quick disgust, pausing just for a second to look down at me with an odd look on her face. "What was that poking my shoulder?" Her tone was close to unreadable, but not enough to hide what it was she was talking about.

            I felt the heat rise in my face, “Huh?" 

            “Don’t ‘huh’ me, you albino shrimp,” She hissed, leveling her large axe at my face. “Did you bring a sausage into my trial to snack on?"

            "S-sausage?” I mumbled, “Really? If anything, I would say it’s a proud quarter pound big bite." I didn’t realize I had voiced my thoughts out loud.

            "A what?”

            "Never mind. Anyways, you’re really strong," I was trying not to be too forward with her, while doing my best to turn the conversation elsewhere.

            "One must be in order to punish you little worms.”

            I wasn’t sure why, but being called a little worm by her secretly gave me a twinge of excitement. Thinking back to before I got here in the realm, there was a pretty, tall miss who had complained that her pizza didn’t have black olives on it. The way that she yelled and berated me, towering over me with such authority, I couldn't help but get excited… good thing for aprons. My mind snapped back to the trial by a sudden burst of explosions set off between us, lights and sound ricocheting off the trees and rocks with every pop and crackle of the party starter. No sooner had I hit the ground did I feel someone pulling my arm, lifting me off the ground and behind the shelter of a crumbling brick wall. I look back to see the rabbit-masked woman chasing Nea. Well, no surprise there; Nea had a habit of giving the killers a hard time (I think I heard the Wraith call her a "demon with a bad hair day.")

            Having finally stopped running, I turn to see who pulled me off the ground. A disgruntled Tapp leaned heavily against the bricks, peering around the crumbling edge before finally sparing me a glance, "Hey bud, hope she didn’t do too much of a number on you. While she was working you over, we managed to get a few more gens done. One more and we’re out of here."

            "Good job," I pant, finally letting myself rest against the wall. This realm could really use some kind of gym.

            Nea does a good job of running the Huntress around pallet after pallet while David, Tapp, and I finish the last generator. Once the power is restored, we make our way to the nearest gate where David yanks down the lever to open the corrugated sheet metal. Seeing Nea still running, with the Huntress yards behind her, I raised my hand to flag her down, "Good job! We can go now."

            "Took you long enough," She pants as she runs past me and out of the trial. About to leave myself, I hear the telltale humming behind me. I turn, and there she is, shoulders squared with her heavy broad axe held loosely in both hands, blade down.

            "Well, I guess I'll see you later." I cast her a cheesy smile, trying to humor her in some way.

            But the humor was lost on her. She narrows her eyes at me, giving me the cold shoulder. "If you touch me with that tiny ass sausage again, I'll shove this somewhere that'll have you farting splinters for a week." She raised her axe for a brief moment, using the hand lower on the handle to pat the ancient wood.

            "Yes ma'am" With that visual, I knew it was time to go. I finally turned and followed my comrades past the safety barrier and into the trees. It didn’t take long for me to catch up with Tapp, who had slowed to a leisurely walk through the tall oaks rather than race through like Nea and David had in an after-match race. No doubt they wanted to brag to the others about their success in our latest bout with the Huntress.

            True to form, Nea could be heard bragging to the others before me and Tapp had even crossed the threshold, "Guess Bigfoot couldn’t keep up with me! I even pallet slammed her twice. She throws tantrums like you wouldn’t believe when she’s pissed."

            David chimed in with his own brutish laugh, "You’re lucky she didn’t slice you up with those talons she calls toenails." This earned a chorus of chuckles from the other survivors, all of them having seen those massive feet as they kicked half-progressed generators and rotting pallets.

            "She’s not that bad, she has a nice frame," I added more confidently than I should've. An awkward silence fell over the camp, with everyone glancing at each other before settling on Dwight. It reminded me of the look that Vanessa usually got when she came back from the woods after being strangely absent from the time she left a Trial to the time the others got back to the clearing. Now I was the strange one?

            "Got an Amazon fetish there Dwight?" Nea smirked, a brow quirked up whilst folding her thin arms over her chest. Even stony Feng seemed amused by this little turn of events, not having pegged her co-leader as the type.

            "A what?" Bill frowned at her, narrowing tired eyes at the youth before him.

            "Don't ask," Nea chuckled simply, waving away the older man’s half-hearted confusion.

            "Anyways,” I began half-heartedly, wanting to redirect the conversation, “No, I don't have an Amazon fetish… I’m just saying she’s not all bad.” Did I have an Amazon fetish? I had always been drawn to larger, stronger women. It only made sense, then.

            In the time after the Trial, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Two trials passed with no sign of her, and as crazy as it sounds, I was hoping to see her again. I wanted her to berate me again, belittle me and call me a little worm…

            And then it happened.

            It was Feng, Jane, Bill and I. We found ourselves in the Pale Rose Swamp. The fog was heavy in the bog, making footing treacherous and sound duller than the norm. As I was trudging towards the generator on the beached ship, I startled a flock of crows and almost didn’t hear her telltale hum. Only when I had shoved my fingers into the inner workings of the run-down machine on the upper deck did her soft lullaby meet my ears, and I knew at that moment it was her, and that I would see her again. My excitement got the better of me, and those all too familiar sparks greeted me once again, the generator throwing its anger in my face. In a blind panic, I rushed into the nearest locker as my heart began to thump in my ears.

            "As much time as I spend in here, maybe I should start bringing something to liven it up. Maybe some flowers?" I was thinking out loud again. For a guy trying to survive, I have too much free time to spend wondering about how to make the inside of a locker more appealing.

            It wasn't until I heard her footsteps drawing closer that I realized just how distracted I was. I heard her breathing, just barely labored from stalking across the muddy swamp to search for whoever had blown up the generator on the boat. Her bare feet padded on the rotting wood, surprisingly careful and light given her height and build. It reminded me of a large predator, in search of its next meal. The idea of her pouncing on me with her threatening physique was enthralling, and I felt my body start to tingle at the anticipation of seeing her again.

            She stops at what sounds like arms-reach away. She was just outside of the locker.

            "Get out of there, you peek-a-boo bitch." Her thick voice rolled off her tongue, uttering her annoyance.

            "…That was a good one." I couldn’t help but blurt out, still tucked inside the locker. In a split second, the door swung open and there she is. I was silent, staring up at her blood splattered hare mask for a long moment. In a somewhat desperate attempt to alleviate the silence, I managed to murmur, "Soooo… you come to this locker often?"

            I could see the disgust on her face even behind the mask. "You really are a pathetic worm," She spits out, and I thought that she’d grab me now for sure.

            "Yes ma'am, I am.” I quickly agreed, feeling the all too familiar tightness warm my trousers. This surprised her, and she tilted her head to one side, listening, pondering her next move. I took her moment of contemplation to press on, “While we're talking, wouuuld it be okay if I called you mistress?" I did my best to waggle my eyebrows suggestively.

            It was a no-go. With a roll of her chocolate-brown eyes, she slammed the locker door shut, the wood slapping my nose harshly. I muttered a pained complaint, but even though her rejection stung, I felt a hint of pride that the door had smacked something else before my nose.

            "Sausage, my ass," I muttered mostly to myself, slowly climbing from the locker. Looking out over the guard rail on the hull, I could see her pushing through the reeds and tall grasses in search of her next victim, completely uninterested in the chance she had at me. Now that she was gone, I couldn’t help but wish she would come back and shove me back into that locker. Guess all I could do now was get back to work on that generator I had started on.

            For the rest of the Trial, I did my best to get her attention but to no avail. I jumped in and out of lockers, in front of her swings at my friends, lounged across downed pallets with a cattail in my mouth, but nothing seemed to catch her eye. By the end of it, she seemed to have given up trying to chase any of us and relented to prowling the edges of the map until we saw ourselves out. Jane threw the switch to the doors, and we filed out one by one, Feng Min practically dragging me by the wrist to keep me from having her all to myself. My team managed to all escape without getting too banged up, thankfully, but it wasn’t what I had wanted. I was determined to get her to notice me, and I sat at the campsite for what must have been hours brainstorming a plan to get just that.

            Maybe a nice outfit would do the trick, something that would make him stand out more in a Trial. I rose from my seat by the fire and shuffled over to my personal chest, moving aside the top layer of generator layout sheets until I hit the clothes at the bottom of the trunk. But after sorting through my dingy clothes, I sat back in defeat. None of these say "Hey, I'm a very bad boy but I'm here to do gens." Just when I was about to give up my search for clothes other than my Pizza-What uniforms, something materialized in slick black latex under my fingertips. My confusion quickly turned to glee as I lifted them up for further inspection; slick, stretchy, and clearly made to only barely cover the goods. But where on earth had this thing even come from? I looked back to where I had found the thong, to see writing burned in glowing orange in the dirt.

            " _I don't know what you plan to do with these, and I don't want to know. But I love all things pain, including verbal abuse. Go nuts… literally"_

            Who knew the entity had a sense of humor? But, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I didn’t think to question the deity too much. I quietly made my way to the woods to slip on the new attire, and not wanting to draw attention to myself from my team, I eased my pants back on overtop. Just being in the leather for a few steps, I got a feel for what I was getting myself into. God, these things chaffed, and I could have sworn I heard the leather squeaking. Hopefully no one else will notice.

            It didn’t take long for the call to go out, selecting the survivors to be placed in the upcoming Trial. This go around, its Jeff, Meg, Vanessa, and I crossing the threshold into the darkness of the forest. It didn’t take long for me to notice the trees begin to change, growing taller, thicker, their color changing to a deep red. We were headed for the Red Forest, home to two of the Entity’s killers. _It has to be one of her trials,_ my thoughts strayed from the path before me and to the rabbit-masked woman that so often leapt into my thoughts. Would we go to the Mother’s Dwelling, or the Temple of Purgation? One was home to my favorite lady, the other home to one of the most vile killers we’ve encountered. Would my team be up to a bout against the Plague, in the off chance we did get her as our opponent? My eyes graze over the other survivors beside me, pausing to take in the sullen look on Vanessa's face. If it was the Huntress after all, how would Vanessa fare this time? Her first round against the skilled woman did not go so well, and had left her bloody in the escape gates.

            Maybe I should say something, make her feel better. "Hey, it'll be ok.” I laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, startling her from whatever thoughts were running rampant in her head. “I'll try to keep busy her for the trial.”

            "Thanks," Vanessa’s answer was sincere, but still echoed the surprise that must have hit her.

            "It's rare for you to do anything besides call dibs on a locker,” Meg quipped, an interested gleam in her eyes. “Are you finally stepping up as a runner this time?”

            "Now that you mention it, dibs on the cabin locker," I entertained her with a grin, straightening my tie before shooting finger guns at the redhead. My team stopped to look at me before bursting with laughter. My grin turned sheepish, a blush of embarrassment dusting my cheeks, "Gee, thanks guys. Feeling all warm and fuzzy now." The words came out a bit more sarcastic than I intended, but the meaning was all the same.

            "Well, if you don't like fuzzy, you could always shave." Meg retorted with a snicker, jogging ahead so she could spin and walk backwards. Her arms were folded behind her back, giving her the look of a playful child who was up to no good. It made me wonder what on earth she meant by “shave.”

            "That's what I do,” Jeff interjected eagerly with a coy grin, “don't let the beard fool you, I'm hairless from the neck down.” He motioned with his large hands, plucking once at his thick sweater he had found around the time snow had fallen in the realm for the first time. Briefly, I glimpsed bare skin underneath, with little spots of stubble freckling his chest. Another image came to mind, stirred by the stubble, and I had to fight off an awkward, embarrassed blush.

            "…Visual I wish I didn't have, but thanks, Jeff." I found myself muttering sarcastically. 

            But this man was only fueled by my embarrassment. "No problem, guy," Jeff grins wide, showing off white teeth. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and keep moving forward, letting the conversation drop.

            Walking a little further, the Entity decides to split us up. It happened gradually, the forest thickening until we were walking further and further apart, singling us out to open our path into the Trial. As I had thought, we were in the Red Forest, and thankfully not at the temple. The ominous cabin loomed ahead, shadowed by the ever-present rain that showered the trees and grass. With all the rain, the grass should at least be shoulder height… perhaps the Entity didn’t know plants all that well. Enough about the flora, though, I had a plan that I was going to stick to, but first… I lay eyes on a few generators that sat in disrepair in the distance. "Well, hopefully this works," I think to my plan for a moment while I make my way towards the nearest gen. I want to at least contribute a little bit to help my team, then I'll get ready for Mistress Anna, or maybe Madame Anna? Haven't decided which sounds better yet. Focusing on the task at hand, I make sure to listen for her voice, if it was her. No sooner had I gotten the generator to start pumping pistons when I heard it, that gentle hum so dangerously comforting, I could listen to it all day if it didn't mean a hatchet might follow soon. I quickly finish my generator, then make a run towards the cabin. A quick look around gave me the knowledge that the basement is here. This could either be really convenient, or really bad. I make my way down the stairs and into one of the boarded off corners to drop my outer clothes. Now in just tight leather, I noticed it's draftier down here than I thought. And looking down at my less-than-fit physique, I wish I had taken David up on his in-between trial workouts. But it's too late now; she's coming. She always seems to know when someone’s down here.

           The floorboards creaked under her powerful steps, her humming reaching the basement before I even had a glimpse of her. I quickly positioned myself underneath the hook, reaching up to hold onto the damp metal with my back to the stairs. I spread my feet, shoulder-width apart, and waited anxiously.

           It took no time for her to finish her descent. A moment of silence fell in the creaking basement, and I worried that she had turned around immediately to hunt the others instead of playing with me. But that worry was quickly squashed when a snort erupted from behind me. "Why is it every time you're in my trial, I find myself thinking, ‘What on earth is this boy doing?’" She asks, stifling a laugh.

           "Because I'm devilishly good looking?" I grin, casting a sideways glance over my shoulder at the woman on the stairs.

           "… nope, that's not it,” She snorts.

           "Well, there goes my ego for the day," I chuckle quietly, lowering my gaze once more away from her. I felt embarrassment creep across my cheeks.

           "Back to the subject… why are you on my hook?” Her tone had shifted slightly, curious as she stepped closer. She reminded me more like a cat with a strange new toy than the dangerous hunter everyone knew her to be. “What are you expecting to happen, trussed up like this?” The laughter was gone now, a more serious and thoughtful overlay to her otherwise inquisitive body language. She peered around to look into my face, and I saw her dark, honey-brown eyes beyond her mask. Like melted caramels, they seemed soft, deep, enough to drown you if you kept looking too long.

           "To be honest I didn't plan that far," I tell her quietly, for once out of breath and out of things to say. That was a good question… I should've thought about what I would do once I got here. My braveness was seeping out of me, trickling away with every droplet of rain that leaked from above. Replacing it was ice-cold fear. I had amused her, but was my time up now?

           "Well, you touched my hook without permission…” Her voice was a quiet, low rumble. She disappeared from my sight, padding around until she stopped behind me. I ducked my head, trying to see where she had gone, but she was just out of view. “…and that deserves a punishment.”

           I didn't think it wise to point out that no survivor asks to be put on the hook. The thought didn’t last long before I was concentrating on her again, listening to her step towards me. Something clanged against the floor, heavy and metal tipped. This, I could see when I strained my neck; her double-handed axe. Why on earth would she-

_Thwack!_

           My ass was immediately on fire, singing from the fresh handprint that rose on my pale skin.

           "Owww! Even Chipotle never burned that bad!" I yelped, chewing my lip to keep me from saying too much. She is a lot stronger than I originally gave her credit for, or she was putting a lot more strength into each swing. 

           "Odin.” The word whispered over the damp walls, sending a chill over my goose-pimpled skin.

           "Odin? Norse god dude?" My question came unbidden from my lips, my confusion slowly swirling in my head.

           "No, you idiot…” Again with the belittling. The leather was getting tighter. “It's a number and you have devjat' more coming." Her tone had gotten a bit snippy, as though she was getting tired of my questions.

           "Devjat'? How many is that?" Realizing what I had gotten myself into, a rush of sensations and emotions poured through me. What was my team doing? What would they think if they came down here and saw this? How would I explain to them that I _liked_ this? And even if they didn’t come down, how would I explain the red marks and bruises to them later, if they were seen? And how would I sneak away to come back here and do this all over again? I longed to run out of here, to never think of this again, but my own desire and lust was keeping me rooted to the spot, not unlike the many redwoods that grew and sheltered this lonesome cabin. I hoped I could make this cabin a little less lonely for her.

_Thwack!_

           "Dva!"

           The numbers came with a slap accompanying each one. "Tri, četyre, pjat'.” The ringing of each connection bounced off of the walls, barely deafened by the moldy wood that kept the dirt and debris from tumbling into the dimly lit room. I bit my lip at the fourth slap, fighting the urge to whimper at the massive amount of pain my rear-end was receiving. But at the same time, I didn’t want her to stop because I wasn’t reacting. Was she enjoying this as much as I was? Surely she had seen the large bulge in my leather speedo by now, and how it seemed to quiver each time her hand touched my skin?

           "I feel like a tetherball on this hook," I manage to whimper out, but all the while I'm loving every minute of this.

            _Thwack!_

She was unrelenting, delivering each blow in quick succession. She didn’t miss a single piece of skin on my now tender rear. “Šest', sem’, vosem', devjat'.” The last word hit my ears, and my heart lurched.

           "Devjat? We're almost done, right?" I ask, half hoping there's more than just the unending spanking.

           “Odin more," I didn’t have to see her to imagine the devilish grin she had on her lips. She was enjoying this just as much as I was.

           "Odin again? What's he got that I haven't?" Maybe egging her on wasn’t the best idea, but if it meant she would stay with me longer, I had to try it.

           Her final swing connected much harder than the others. I couldn’t help but cry out as her large hand landed squarely on my left cheek, causing the flesh to jiggle in place for a moment while I recollected myself. My knees were wobbling, unsteady from the pain, but still able to keep me afoot.

           "Desjat'!” I heard her take a few steps back, admiring the bright red color that must be my ass. “Now get off my hook before someone sees you." I couldn’t be sure if she said that for my sake or hers, but I got the hint.

           "Owwoooh, my ass is tender enough to make a steak jealous," I straighten up and let the hook go, turning partly to look back at my rear. Sure enough, I could see each handprint raised on my pale skin, turning it a hot, reddish pink. It would surely bruise by the time I was out of this Trial.

           "Put your clothes back on and get out before I really put you on the hook." This was more of a threat than her last suggestion. Not having to be told twice, I scurry to the corner where I stashed my clothes. These speedos were not meant to be worn for long periods of time. I peel them off quickly, forgetting who was down here with me. Embarrassment hotter than the sting of my ass cheeks flooded my cheeks, growing hotter still as her calculating eyes first met mine, then traveled down to the item in question. The corner of her lips twitched into a smirk.

            "Guess it's chillier down here than I thought, eh boy?" Her laughter echoed from the stairs, the woman quickly making her ascent to hunt down my team. Her humming was all that was left now, a fragment of her presence that let me know she was even here at all.

           Now clothed, I make my way up the stairs, listening to the rumble of a repaired generator above me on the porch. Outside, I saw another completed machine in the distance. Stepping into the grass outside, I took a deep breath of the wet air, then knelt and pressed my finger into the dirt:

_Hey, Mr, or Mrs Entity, however you self-identify, if you could go ahead and kill me now that'd be great. Yeah, don't worry about bringing me back._

           No response. Well, it was worth a shot.

           It didn’t take me long to find another generator, but I didn’t have long to waddle towards it when the wail of the exit gates filled the air. Am I running funny? I feel like I'm running funny. Behind me, I hear a hum with what sounds like laughter mixed in. Too embarrassed to turn around, I shield my face from my team as I head for the opened gate and make my way out.

           What I wouldn't give for some baby powder right now.


	19. Chapter 19

            I couldn’t help but notice Dwight’s odd half-waddle back to camp, but I didn’t dwell on it much. He had occupied a lot of the Huntress’s time, so I didn’t have to worry about her burying that broad axe in my skull. I let Meg and Jeff get ahead of me, the two joking and muttering under their breath about Dwight, while I sunk further and further back, spreading the distance between them and myself. Eventually, I was far enough behind them that I could slip away into the woods, headed straight for the oaks that would guide me to the Estate.

            I had been dwelling on the journal’s whereabouts since the Trial with Evan. I was hopeful that he had hidden it by now, but I wanted to be sure that it was out of his cave. If the Entity found it there, while Evan was home… I could only imagine the trouble he’d be in. He had been in a hurry to leave the survivor campfire after he had finished eating- he had _four_ full bowls of Claudette’s stew- and it hadn’t taken long for myself and a few others to be summoned into yet another Trial. However, now that I had the chance to go and check for myself if the journal was gone, I was taking it.

            Impending danger weighed heavy on my shoulders after taking just a few meager steps into the Estate. I kept my head on a swivel while my feet kept true on the path to the cave, making sure I checked both the ground and the surroundings for whatever was setting my nerves on edge. Everything seemed normal enough; flame barrels flickering in the damp darkness, log piles heavily stacked in the overgrowth, dilapidated brick structures and warehouses looming in the distance. I was almost to the edge of the Estate, close to the cave, when I thought I saw a glimpse of cloth floating in the air, rustled by some wind that wasn’t even present.

            I needed to go.

            I broke into a mad dash for the cave, desperate to cross the space between me and safety, to escape from whatever it was that trailed behind in my footsteps. I realized too late that bear traps were laid open in a line across the dark entrance. My foot fell onto the weighted plate, the coils in the mechanism springing taut. The rusted metal shredded through flesh and bit into bone with a sickening snap, resonating within with a painful screech. I cried out hoarsely, bending to push on the teeth, all too aware of the sickening dread that ached on my back. I heard it whispering, could feel the lust in the very presence it exhumed, I could almost see the aura of his hand reaching towards me with a sharp-tipped blade. I bit back a whimper, ready to meet the sharp end of whatever it was behind me-

            But it never came.

Evan had arrived in a flurry of heavy footsteps, standing just a few feet before me so that my pursuer had to think twice about landing whatever blade he held into my back. Evan’s masked face glared over me, cast beyond my bent form to stare down my attacker, holding his freshly sharpened meat cleaver in his thick hand. I never thought to ask if he had more than one weapon he liked to use, but nevertheless I was grateful to have him here, even if it meant that he was on edge, too.

            “Are you alright?” He still didn’t kneel, didn’t make any move to help me just yet, speaking in a gravelly tone that reminded me of a man who had just woken up from a rough night. “Remember what I showed you.” The phrase clicked, and I recalled the last time I had come here. I had stepped in a trap back then, too, and he had showed me the different gears and contraptions that made the lethal item so strong. With fumbling, blood-slick fingers, I managed to pull back the coil that would make the teeth release my mangled, broken ankle. “Good. Now get in the cave. Don’t look back.”

            Evan was being oddly cryptic. Slowly, I made my way deeper into the cave, not daring to turn a curious eye over my shoulder. If he didn’t want me looking, then I shouldn’t. The dread I had felt before was ebbing away, left behind at the entrance of the cave in the bear trap. Replacing it was warmth and comfort from the familiar walls and flickering embers of the fire further beyond, behind the silhouettes of a few, thick stalagmites. I had barely crossed the threshold into the heat of the flames when the pain in my ankle renewed with intense vigor, burning through my leg as though it were on fire. I grit my teeth and settled myself on the ground, rolling up my shredded and bloodied pant leg to observe the damage.

            It was worse than the first time I had stepped in one of his traps. The fact I had limped on the already festering wound all the way into the cave was a miracle. I could see the white of my tibia and fibula, connecting to the myriad of crushed bones that comprised my ankle, soaked in fresh blood oozing from the cracks. The flesh had been ripped away, fibrous muscle, ligaments, tendons, and cartilage, making the appendage useless. I gingerly touched the exposed nerves and veins, sucking in a breath at the wave of fresh pain that erupted from the small touch.

            “Farisa?” His voice reached me before the rest of him did. He sounded frustrated, maybe even a little angry. Heavy footsteps echoed on the cave walls, fast paced and growing closer, until finally he rounded the stalagmites and laid feverish eyes on me. “What in the hell are you doing here?” I opened my mouth to respond, but he wouldn’t let me speak, “Don’t you understand how fucking dangerous it is? My traps are fucking everywhere, Lisa’s got leftover traps everywhere, not to fucking mention-”

            “ _Evan_.” I forced through grit teeth, locking eyes with him. “I’m here about the journal. I know your traps are everywhere, I didn’t step in one until I got to your cave! Why were they there anyway?” I could see his chest heaving, his hands clenching until his knuckles were bone white. I could practically see his thoughts grinding in his head, aggravating him. “Does it have to do with-”

            “Farisa.” He finally breathed a low sigh, letting some of his tension go with it. He dropped the meat cleaver next to the scrap pile before kneeling a few feet in front of me. “Wait, it’s not Farisa, is it? It was, what… Larissa? Tessa?”

            “Vanessa.”

            “Vanessa.” He repeated slowly, savoring the name. It sounded nice in his voice, and some part of me burned for him to say it again. Even in his frustrated volume, it sounded perfect. “Look, some of your friends already know about him, and you would know about him too had you gone back like you were fucking supposed to. There’s something dangerous in the woods, almost as dangerous as Michael.” His hands undid the straps that held his mask against his face, roughly ripping at the cords as though he couldn’t get it off fast enough. He threw the item at the ground, and it clanged off a boulder and skid into the wall. “You can’t just be walking anywhere you want! The others aren’t as kind as I am, and the worst of us will not hesitate to end you on the fucking spot.” His burning eyes were hotter than the fire, staring into the depths of the coals, searching for something to say in the white-hot embers.

            “Evan…” I reached a hand forward, gently touching the back of his hand, trying to offer him some kind of comfort to alleviate his frustration. But he yanked his hand away, flexing it slowly before placing it on his knee, further out of my reach. A pang of hurt hit my chest, but I quickly whisked it away before it could overwhelm me. “Evan, I understand why you’re worried. But even if they kill me, I won’t be dead forever. The Entity will just bring me back and I’ll be shoved into another Trial.” This time, I scooted closer and took his hand in mine, squeezing his large palm tight before bringing it to my lips. “We’re here in this realm, and we have to play Its game. You can’t protect me from dying like my comrades.” His fingers twitched against my chin but did not move otherwise. “Now tell me, why did you have those traps out? You had your best work laid out on your doorstep.”

            This caught his attention. He wrenched his eyes away from the flames to examine my face, then trailed down to my leg, extended to one side to alleviate what pain I could. A troubled expression warped his features, his whole body turning to me now. His hands moved to gently draw my leg closer, resting it in his lap to examine the damage. He didn’t touch, only carefully moved it side to side, turned it in his warm and careful hands. It was hard to tell whether he was pleased that his traps had caused that much damage, or if he was upset that I had been the one to bear the brunt of it. After a moment, his lips moved in a quiet mumble, “The new guys need boundaries set. I was setting mine.”

            “New guys?” I repeated quietly, wincing when his hot hand rested a little too close to the enflamed wound. I hissed through my teeth but kept still, forcing myself to stay still through the pain. “Is there more than one?”

            “No, just one.” He left my leg to lay on his lap, gently drawing the rest me closer so I didn’t have to stretch so far. “I don’t know what to make of him yet. But you sensed it, didn’t you?” I nodded slowly, remembering the dread that had settled heavily on my shoulders. “He doesn’t have a place he’s chosen to stay at yet, so he’s been wandering around my estate. The traps are to keep him out.” I leaned my head on his shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief; whatever it was couldn’t get me here. Evan was quiet a moment, his eyes stuck on the gaping wound that was my ankle, before finally speaking again, “Why are you here?”

            “The journal.” My voice was no more than a whisper, careful. “We need to put it back where we found it. The Entity wants it.” The man beside me heaved a heavy groan, practically begging me to continue, “If the Entity finds it here… Evan, I don’t want It to hurt you.”

            His large arms encompassed me, pulling me into an even closer embrace. I felt his lips graze the top of my head, pressing into my hair so tenderly. “Don’t worry about me, I can take a couple of hits. But you’re right… we should put it back. Where did you say you found it again?”

*-*-*

            Lery’s Memorial Institute. It was just as cold and frigid as I remembered, even with Evan here to keep me warm. He had me wrapped in his arms, held up to his barrel chest so I wouldn’t have to walk on my mangled ankle. From walking in the gate, I could feel a surplus of electricity crackling through the area, in the walls and floor, making the static in the televisions stagger and pop. I thought I heard a man scream, but I couldn’t be sure if it was the creepy ambience or someone actually trapped in the hospital maze.

            I squeezed Evan’s shoulder strap as we headed deeper into the labyrinthian halls, turning left and right, right then left, passing through the operation room and around shower stalls and infirmaries. Even under his mask, I could see the perplexed expression warping his face while we made our way through the halls. He must not be sure where we were headed, until finally we turned our way down a tight hall that opened into the office. It looked cleaner than the last time I had been here; books picked up and placed back on shelves, papers cleared and organized, the floor had even been swept.

            Evan shuddered and squeezed me tightly, muttering, “Let’s make this quick, I don’t want to stay here long.” He carried me quickly to the shelves, reaching into his overalls for the leather-bound volume and, producing it, handed it to me. “Do you remember what shelf you pulled it off of?”

            “It was at my eye level, so one of these two.” I gestured to two of the bookshelves that sat side by side behind the desk. Thinking back, I pointed to the right one. “I think this one.” I stretched my arm out towards the shelf, beginning to tuck the corner of the volume between two thick texts.

            “Is that my favorite Trapper I hear?”

            My blood ran cold. Whose voice was that? I turned my head in the direction it came from, only to meet the wicked eyes of the Doctor. He was even more terrifying in person, exuding the electrical aura of a man who enjoyed the madness of his patients. His breath wheezed through a pearl-white smile, stretched ear-to-ear by bits of metal fixed to the inner corners of his lips. Another set of metal clamps fixed his eyes open into an unending stare, giving me the absolute creeps. He held no weapon, only a set of gloves adorned his large hands. Somehow, even through his stretched expression, I could see the curiosity that burned in his crazed stare. He took two heavy steps towards us, rounding from where the basement steps were with open arms, “And you brought your pet! I didn’t peg you for the type, Trapper! What brings you here to my office, hm?”

            I could feel just how tense Evan was by how hard he was gripping my leg. His fingers would leave bruises if he kept squeezing like that. I pushed a hand on the bookshelf, sliding the journal into place as I leaned on it, all the while trying my best to make some kind of excuse to the crazed man, “We uh, had a bit of an accident in the Estate. There’s a new killer, and-”

            “Oh, dear, I’m not talking to you, now am I?” The Doctor grinned at me, wagging a disciplinary finger, almost within arms’ reach. “Evan, you know I don’t do wound treatment all that much anymore. I’m more into torture now, picking the survivors’ brains, and-”

            “Oh _Daddy_ , are you coming back down?” I heard a singsong voice carry up the stairs, a strong tenor that reminded me of an innocent theater kid, though the words suggested something wildly different. A young boy came around the corner from the basement, wearing nothing except a skull bandana that covered his genitals. His freckled face flushed red with embarrassment upon seeing our small little group gathered around the bookshelves, his dark brown eyes flicking first from the Doctor to me, then back to the Doctor. He seemed to recognize me, though I had never seen him before in this place or any of the other locations the Entity loved to send us to. “I, uh… didn’t realize we had company.”

            “I’ll just be a moment, kitten.” The electrical man chuckled sweetly, turning halfway so that he could set his eyes on the young man in question, “Go back down and wait for me. I won’t be long.” The boy took a moment longer to look at us, as though trying to gauge our interest in him, before disappearing back down the flight of steps. “Terribly sorry about that, my pet gets antsy when I don’t play with him enough.”

            “I… see.” Evan stuttered, standing stone still. Briefly, I wondered what the other killers did in their spare time, but now wasn’t the time to ask. “… Anyway. I only really came about her leg. Traps were set pretty strong to ward off the new guy.” He slowly sat me on the desk, gesturing to the shredded remains of my left ankle. “Its… hard to play with a broken toy.”

            I have no idea why on earth he just said that, nor why the Doctor seemed to take a bit more kindly to us now that he said it, but I never thought I would be referred to as a man’s toy. I watched the distance between me and the electrical man shrink, smaller and smaller, until his gloved hands were wrapped around my leg, raising my foot just enough that he could get a better view of the wound. I felt the crackle of static shimmy up my shin, tingle my kneecap, make my muscles contract against my will. It was taking all my energy to fend off the surge, while not pull away from his careful hands. My eyes traveled over the tubes and wires that looped through his muscle and flesh, humming with whatever it was he pumped himself with. I felt his cold breath wheeze over my skin, raising goosebumps on the exposed skin.

            “Your traps did this?” The Doctor chuckled darkly, stroking his finger over the frayed flesh. Fresh pain erupted through my leg, blooming in red hot flowers that forced crimson nectar to flow once more. “You crushed her bones, I’ll have you know. This is a little more than a stitch can fix.” The man stood once more, going around to the other side of the desk. From beneath it, he fetched an old, dented box that bore a medical cross in bold red paint. “But luckily for you, I can still fix it. Gonna leave a pretty nasty scar, though.” The box opened away from me, so I couldn’t see inside of it, but I thought I heard the rattle of needles rolling around. “Trapper, dear, will you hold her for me? This is going to hurt a lot.”

            Evan made a noise, something along the lines of a grunt but I couldn’t be sure, as he moved to take his place behind me in an almost dominant manner. I felt his chest at my back, hot with a steady, strong heartbeat, distracting me from the Doctor’s manic stare. “Just be quick. I need to get her back to the others.”

            “Sharing?” A crackle of laughter sparked out of the man holding my leg. Evan must have given him a look, causing even more manic laughter to burst forth, “I’m only kidding. You know what I like.” Had the Doctor’s eyes not been held open, I’m sure he would have winked. 

            “Do the others have hobbies like yours, Doctor..?” I needed something to distract myself from the man’s work. I squeezed Evan’s wrist hard while turning my eyes to the ceiling, feeling the first wave of pain pierce into the bone. “Not to pry, or anything.”

            “Well, I can’t say for all of them, but I can say for some.” Herman surprised me by beginning to answer my question. I had anticipated him brushing me off like an annoying gnat, but maybe he was curious to know why I wanted to know. “Anna- you know her as the Huntress, she takes care of Max and Junior. They need a bit more patience than a lot of us can give them.” I wouldn’t really consider that a hobby, but given the circumstances that the killers were here for, I could see how taking care of others would be considered as such. “Legion, well, hard to say for the other three, but…” Ah, so the boy downstairs was either Frank or Joey. “And Jeffrey makes all sorts of tonics and alcohols. He’s made a few sedatives for me, for the rare occasion I… ah, I shouldn’t be telling you about that.” The Doctor clucked his tongue, shaking his head side to side.

            “Who are Max and Junior?” I hissed through another wave, shutting my eyes so hard I saw stars behind the lids. Poor Evan, my nails must be piercing his wrists, but he made no move against me.  

            “That’s the Hillbilly and the Leatherface.” Evan answered this time. “You haven’t gone against Leatherface yet.” Thinking back, I barely remembered what the Hillbilly looked like, but I hadn’t forgotten the pain that had zig zagged through my back. I barely recalled the limping gait and the unnatural gleam in his warped face, but his chainsaw I could never forget. “Anna is Huntress, and Jeffrey is the Clown. You haven’t faced him yet, either.”

            “How many of you are there?” I had never thought to ask who all the killers were. I knew the ones I had met, but that only made up a handful of the total number. I had faced the Wraith, the Hillbilly, Evan, Susie, and the Huntress, and I had brief encounters with the newest killer and the Entity’s favorite, Michael, but I knew there had to be more than just those seven. Well, tack on that I had just met the Doctor, that makes eight. If I counted the two that the Doctor had mentioned, that’s ten killers so far.

            “Hm, how many do you think, Trapper?” The Doctor hummed in thought, his speech soft now that he was focused on the task at hand. My ankle wasn’t nearly as enflamed as before, thanks to his skilled touch. “Plague and Spirit joined us not too long ago. That makes twelve.”

            “There’s almost too many of us.” Evan chuckled darkly, his thumb idly stroking my arm. I looked up at him, scanning the placid mask that hid his expression. “There are days I miss being one of the few killers here, but I like that there are others to take up the work. Makes it not so stressful on the rest of us.”

            “When Michael came in, the rest of us didn’t have Trials for a long time.” Herman piped in, weaving a needle between two pieces of jagged skin. “That was after I got here. Lisa and Sally got here before me, though.” I winced as he tugged the twine, closing the jagged pieces into a fine line. “You’ve been here since the beginning, haven’t you, Trapper?”

            “Yeah… I have.”

            Something about the way he said that sounded so sad, so lonesome. One of the first here, one of the oldest in the realm, watching as more and more killers and survivors flow in by the Entity’s choosing. Some better suited to tracking the survivors, some stronger, quieter, some thirstier for blood. Did he ever feel set apart from the other killers? Did he ever feel jealous, or hate the others for coming into the limelight, and taking away the Entity’s interest in his abilities? It was something I had never thought of before, and I felt ashamed that I was only thinking about it now. I didn’t really know much about Evan, other than the short bit of his life just before coming into this realm. Hell, I don’t even know why he fancies me so much and not the others. All I knew is that he spends what free time he has in that dark cave on the edge of his Estate. I wasn’t even sure why he opted to stay in that dingy place when surely there’s somewhere else much warmer to stay.

            I felt a tug and heard the snip of blades. My eyes traveled from where they had been fixated on the wall to instead view the Doctor’s handiwork. Neat stitches crisscrossed through the jagged tears, carefully placed with delicacy and care. A bit of smeared blood stained the skin, but it was to be expected. “Now, try to keep off it as much you can until the Entity finishes healing it. If the Entity allows it to heal, that is.” His cloak fluttered as he straightened up, watching me for a short moment before heading towards the basement once more. “We’ll see each other in a Trial soon, I’m sure. Evan, you know where to find me if you need _anything._ ”

            A harsh shudder racked through Evan’s thick frame, the man visibly irked by the shenanigans. “Trust me. I don’t need anything.” Herman snickered wickedly and disappeared, leaving us to ourselves in the office. I was swept up within moments of his disappearance, and we were making our way quickly for the doors leading out of the institute, both of us doing our best to ignore the pleased screams that ricocheted through the corridors.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Tidbit here. Gonna be honest, I haven't finished next week's chapter just yet, so it may get to y'all late. Been struggling to write as of late, but I'm not abandoning this story until its finished. Thank you for your patience, and enjoy Chapter 20!

            The trek back to the cave was spent in relative quiet, save for the wind in the trees and the slow, paced steps of Evan’s hunting boots. They were as rhythmic as the heartbeat in his chest, pounding away with the drum beat of a killer’s march. I laid my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes for a bit, just breathing in the dense greenery that lined our path and the woody, musky scent that permeated the Trapper’s clothing and skin. I shouldn’t be as comfortable as I am with him, but it was as natural to me as breathing by this point.

            Being carried like this was the only sense of comfort I could hope to get in this awful realm. It allowed me to let my mind wander, rather than try to keep my wits about me at all times, and even if only for a short while I could put away the unease the Entity set into the world it created. Now that the journal was back in place, I didn’t have to worry about the Entity coming after me or Evan, and Benedict could locate it again, if he was going back for it. What I did have to worry about, however, was the spy that the Entity had tormented me with. I had no idea who it could be, or who to begin to suspect. I didn’t trust many of the survivors, except for maybe Quentin and Claudette, but I trusted the Wraith more than I trusted my peers. To think that there was only one spy was less believable than all of the survivors being a spy. It was easy enough to peg the betrayal on Nea, but it wasn’t fair to label her that way just because I didn’t like her. The worst part about all of this was that I couldn’t talk to any of them about the spy for fear of it getting back to the Entity. If I did find out the suspect’s identity, what would happen to them, or the rest of us? What even were the benefits of being a spy?

            When we crossed the line to the Estate, my eyes flew open, the sensation of impending dread raising the hairs on the back of my neck. Whatever Evan had worried about was still out there, and it knew we had returned. It was waiting, creeping behind a stand of nearby trees, knife gripped tightly in its gloved hand. Evan’s hold on me tightened, making it a point to glare sideways through his mask at the mysterious being while we continued on our way. “Don’t look at him.” I heard him whisper, “or he’ll give chase.” I caught myself trying to peer past his shoulder and ducked down to hide my face instead.

            “Wait.”

            A wispy voice made its way to us, carried to us on a breath of wind. Evan stopped for a moment, half turning to look back at the being. Still, I kept my eyes averted, just in case. Evan’s voice rumbled against my cheek, “What do you want?”

            “… My name’s Ghostface,” listening to him speak, I could hear the masculine undertones to the breathy way he talked. “Well… Danny, I guess to you guys? I don’t know, I assume you’re one of the others, y’know, since you got the big meat cleaver in your- wow, you got some meaty mitts. Did you body build before you-”

            “ _What do you want?_ ” Evan’s repeated question was edged with a warning. Had I been on the receiving end, I would have run in the opposite direction. The big man may be gentle with me, but he was a giant, and not afraid to throw his weight around should the need arise. From what I had seen of this Ghostface guy, Evan could probably snap him in half.

            There was a pause between them, but it didn’t last long, “I won’t hurt her. I just want to-”

            “ _No_.”

            “Oh, come on, please?” He sounded desperate to get to me. I found my grip growing tight on the leather strap of Evan’s overalls. “I just wanna ask her shit! Like, where the fuck is this place? The, what, Entity? Deity? The-Bitch-Upstairs won’t tell me jack-diddly-shit so you guys are all I got to get answers.” I thought I heard Evan snort in short amusement, but it was so subtle that I almost didn’t hear it. “Was that a snort? Are you laughing? I’m being serious, haven’t you even wondered-”

            “Alright, alright, slow down, kid.” Evan finally groaned and relented, turning to face him fully. “But I answer the questions, not her. You leave her out of this.” I peeked through my shield of fingers that I had laid over my face to get a view of the talkative fellow. He was thin, lean, shorter than Evan and not as built, but no one could ever hope to be the size Evan was. All he wore was a simple, night-black trench coat with tendrils of fabric that draped from the cowl, and a long, ghostly white mask, mouth and eyes gaping in a melting scream. I couldn’t make out what emotion the man was portraying, but it seemed to be some sort of sass, determined by the grip he had on his hips.

            “And how is that fair?” Ghostface, or Danny, crossed his arms now in a dramatic pout. “She seems much more friendly to talk to. Pretty cute too. Do all the killers have like, what, pet survivors? ‘Cuz man, there’s one with like-” he made a wide, round motion with his hands then, animatedly nodding his head, “-she’s got this huge butt.”

            That would be Jane. My blood ran cold, imagining the woman running through the trees of the estate with this guy hot on her trail. I didn’t want to imagine her screams echoing against the leaves above us.

            “No, we don’t all have ‘pet’ survivors. She’s not a pet.” Evan’s voice had dropped from edged warning to exasperated pleading. I felt his body turn now, as though to make an escape from the constant pestering, “Now if you’ll excuse us-”

            “Wait, I haven’t asked my questions! Well, I asked one, but you didn’t answer. Technically two?” Danny tapped his fingers on the bottom portion of his mask, then flipped his hand as though pushing the worry away. “Anyway, what is this place? Where is everyone?”

            “Look, I’m going back to my cave. I’ll answer your questions later.” Evan growled low in his throat, giving the air of a father home from work to a house of sugar-crazed children. I was afraid he may snap if this Danny guy kept barraging him with questions. “Don’t follow. Come on, Ness-”

            “So, your name’s Ness!” I felt a tug on my arm, and I was tumbling out of the safety of Evan’s hold, headed for the ground but stopped short by another body underneath mine. I felt the cool touch of latex brush on my cheek, cold fear squeezing me tightly with the touch of his hands on my shoulders. “Is that short for Vanessa? Man, did Nea have some choice words about you-”

            Evan’s fist cracked against the man’s cheek, knocking the slender killer away from me far enough that he could snatch me back up into his arms. “ _Don’t. Touch. Her._ ” The unspoken threat was heavy in his words. Without much else said, we were storming away from the chatty guy now laid out in the grass. I looked past his shoulder to watch as he sat up, holding a hand to his cheek.

            I shouldn’t feel bad. I shouldn’t pity him. I shouldn’t want to reach out, touch that same cheek, and apologize for Evan’s rough behavior. I shouldn’t be climbing out of Evan’s safety to go back to him and kneel in the grass beside him.

            And yet here I was, a mere two feet from him, easily within killing range with a hand outstretched to him, palm up. “Excuse him, he’s got a bit of a temper.” Danny’s expressionless mask moved down, looking at my hand, then up at my face again. “I know a lot of this is confusing. I’m still not sure of a lot of it. But I can try to answer what I can.”

            I waited, pushing down the lump of nerves that swelled in my throat. It was ultimately his choice now if he opted to accept my help or kill me and face Evan’s wrath. The man peeked over my shoulder at the burly man in question, then back at me.

            He placed his knife in my hand, handle first, then moved away a foot, to solidify his peace agreement. “What is this place?” Was the first question out of his mouth. His hands reached under his cowl, and the whole thing came off; a lop of brown hair fell over his tannish face, and a curiously serious look adorned his middle-aged face. Had this been another situation, I would have said he was handsome. He had one of those friendly “you can trust me” faces that made him easy to talk to, and all the more dangerous. “And when?”

            I told him everything I could. I told him how I woke up here, oblivious to who I was, where I was, only that I had to survive the horrors of the never-ending night. I told him how Evan found me, told me where we were and why. The Entity chose me to be a sheep for Its wolves, and now It had chosen a new wolf for the pack. Names were exchanged between us, and professions; I an artist, he a journalist. I did for him what I did for myself in the survivor campground and drew out what I believed to be the map of the Realm, pointing out where we survivors gathered and where the different killers resided.

            Danny took all of it in stride, pulling out a little pocket journal from some inner fold of his cloak so he could sketch a replica map of his own with surprising accuracy. “So, lemme get this straight,” His words were stern, his dark eyes focused on the lined pages of his notebook, “This place exists in a pocket dimension, and there are killers and survivors from different parts of the world and time periods?”

            “Yeah. I ran a mining and logging business back in the eighteen-hundreds,” Evan interjected helpfully, though he had been sitting there for the past fifteen minutes with the grumpiest look on his face. He had a trap settled in his lap that he had decided to occupy his time with and had pulled the thing apart. “Sally is from early nineteen-hundreds, if I remember. I think Philip said he was from 1970 something.” Danny’s piece of charcoal scribbled furiously across his pages, jotting down everything we told him. “I think Adiris is from, well… I’m not sure time existed in the time period she was from. But she’s from a long time ago.”

            “Who?” Danny’s writing stilled at the question, looking up for clarification. Not even I knew all the killers, let alone their names. I knew the names of very few of the killers, and only the aliases they go by of the others. This was a question Evan would have to answer.

            “The Plague.” The burly man slowly rose to his feet, extending a hand to me. “Vanessa, its time.” I looked up between him, then the sky, seeming oddly darker now than before. I couldn’t see the stars like usual, covered by a cascade of clouds that seemed to swirl tightly together, funneling down…

            Right towards me. The wind ripped between me and Evan, wrapping me in a torrent of air that sucked the breath out of my lungs. I gasped for air, choking on what little left I had in my lungs, my vision blurring and greying at the corners.

            And then it stopped. My vision came back.

            The rusted red paint of a barn greeted me instead. I looked up at the creaking structure, trying to form the thoughts in my head of what just happened, and what that possibly could mean. Had the Entity heard me informing Ghostface of everything going on? Did the Entity suck that man into the round with me?

            Well, whatever the reason being, I was in a Trial and needed to get into the mindset of surviving. I don’t know who I’m facing, and I don’t know who my team is. I took a brief look around, noting the pallet set against a haystack and the abundance of corn beyond, before making my way into the musty structure. The smell of old, rotting hay filled my nose, the source three towering stacks that concealed a generator. No one else was here yet, and I didn’t hear the killer nearby, so I set to work.

            In the distance, a generator roared to life. Not even moments later, another one lit up the foggy sky. Mine rumbled and purred under my careful hands as it, too, powered on. No killer had made any appearance yet, and I was beginning to wonder if a killer had even been sucked in, when I heard it. A steady heartbeat began to build, coming from within the corn rows, slowly approaching. Curious, I tucked myself behind a haystack, wanting a glimpse of whoever was supposed to be on the hunt.

            “Fucking Entity, I didn’t wanna go in today!” A feminine voice rumbled. “Ya couldn’t have sent in Frank or Julie? Nooooo, you had to send in Susie.” I heard a long groan, and stones scatter across dirt. “Y’know, I don’t _have_ to kill them. I may _like_ killing, doesn’t mean I want to all the time! So suck it!” I could just see the middle finger shot straight up towards the sky over the tall corn.

            I couldn’t help myself. I snorted a laugh, giving away my location. The heartbeat grew louder in haste, until I saw her mask peek around the corner. Even then, I couldn’t stop the giggles that made my shoulders bounce, “I’m sorry Susie, I just couldn’t help myself. All I could see was your finger in the air and I just couldn’t.” I dragged the heel of my palm across my cheek, trying to force myself calm again.

            “Farisa?” The girl sped towards me and skid across the dirt on her knees, stopping just before me so she could yank me into a tight embrace. “Holy hell I haven’t seen you in ages! Where’ve you been? You haven’t come to the resort yet, what about our sleepover! You said you would!”

            “I know, I’m so sorry about that, Susie. A lot happened.” I squeezed her for all I was worth, grateful that it was her and not some other knife wielding monster paroling the grounds. “Like… Wow, it’s a lot to fill you in on, and I don’t think one Trial with two generators left will be enough to tell it.” Just then, another generator lit up the eternally night sky.

            Susie shook her head quickly, “No, you’re right. There’s not enough time. Which is why you’re coming with me after this is done.” She stood suddenly, grabbing me by the wrist so I was forced to stand with her. “One more generator to do, then the gates. You come with me back to Mount Ormond and I can introduce you to the gang!” I could hear the smile in her voice. Of course, I couldn’t say no.

*-*-*

            Mount Ormond was freezing in comparison to Lery’s. Where the hospital had walls to keep the wind out, Mount Ormond was a giant ski resort coated in heavy snow and fog. It wasn’t hard to see the resort itself planted firmly in the center, dark and foreboding over us in our approach. I kept close to Susie, keeping a firm grip on her sleeve so I wouldn’t be separated from her. The young girl didn’t slow down, eagerly pulling me through a broken hole in the wall towards the innards of the building, “Guys, guys! I brought her!”

            It didn’t take me long to see who she was referring to. Within the building, a firepit sat low in the middle, burning with a soft crackle and pop now and then. Surrounding the pit, a couch had been furnished into the floor itself, and on that couch was a hooded person close in size to Susie, but a little bit taller and with more grace. The girl still had her mask on, a plain white sheet with blood drawn across it to show an “X” for a mouth, and I couldn’t be sure if I was actually safe standing next to Susie or not from this other girl. Someone else sat close to the masked girl, a boy this time in a varsity jacket, lounging as though he owned the whole resort. This boy did not have his mask on, but instead had it sitting on his lap.

            “Susie, is that the girl you were telling us about?” The girl was the first to speak. When Susie nodded, only then did she take off her mask, revealing a young, angular face with dark eyes. “Y’know, I really thought that she wasn’t ever going to show. How many Trials has it been since you invited her here?”

            Susie didn’t answer at first, she was too busy counting the numbers on her fingers. After about three rounds of flicking all the digits up and down, she either came up with a number or gave up entirely. The meaning was there, it had been too long. “Look, she’s here now, ‘kay? Is that enough for you?” Her small hands now pulled at the mask on her own face, taking off the wired piece of metal to show off her own freckled beauty. “Where’s Joe?”

            “I’m here.” Just then, another hooded figure entered from the other side of the resort. He had on a dark hoodie with neon blue striping, but what really captured my attention was the skull bandana he wore over his face. The boy seemed to stop upon catching sight of me, hand paused in a still grip around a pocketknife. “Susie… Is this?”

            “Yeah, this is Farisa!” Susie didn’t seem to notice the cautious stare of the neon-clad boy. “Joe, I told you she’d come!” Her arms wrapped tight around me, and for a moment I was reminded of the still-healing sutures around my ankle as a spark of pain shot through my leg. “Isn’t this exciting! Oh oh oh, I’ll go get the sleeping bags!”

            Susie was running up a flight of stairs before anyone could stop her, not that anyone could try. Now that I was left with the other three, I could begin to assign names. The guy in the varsity jacket was Frank, with short cropped blonde hair and oddly dazzling blue eyes. He seemed like a picture-perfect football player, with a square jaw that would have made cheerleaders go crazy for him. Then there’s Julie, sitting not too far from him but not very close either, in a slimming gray hoodie and dark features. Joe, who had now moved further into the resort and was now leaning against a lone, purring generator by the stairs, had yet to take his mask off, though I know I recognized that mask from Lery’s.

            “You can sit, y’know.” Julie’s pointed remark was aimed at me, gesturing to the couch across from her. “You’re a friend of Susie’s. We won’t bite.” I was having a hard time believing that. Not wanting to give them reason to fuss, I limped my way to the couch and sat down, just across from Julie and Frank, who were both watching me with carefully curious eyes. “So, Farisa was it?”

            “Actually, it’s Vanessa, now.” This won a raised eyebrow from the girl. “It’s a long story that I need to tell Susie. A lot happened between her inviting me here and me actually getting here.” It wasn’t much of an excuse, but it was the only one I had. “I’m going to explain once Susie gets back.”

            “Explain what to me?” Just then, Susie appeared with an armful of sleeping bags, dingy sacks colored blues and greys with dirt stains from disuse. She let them drop from her arms onto a cleared space on the floor, kicking them a bit before returning confused dark blue eyes in my direction. “What’s going on?”

            “Susie, come sit down. Joe, you too.” Julie spoke in a hushed tone, surprisingly gentle given the previous cold shoulder she seemed to have, but maybe she had a soft spot for her compatriots. When Joe didn’t move away from his spot by the generator, she turned coffee-dark hues towards him, “Joe?”

            He waved a hand, “I’m good standing.” I had to bite back a giggle, for fear of embarrassing the poor guy. Julie seemed satisfied enough with that answer and returned her attention to me.

            So I told them everything that happened, and elaborated to the other three what I meant. After all, I had only just met them. I mentioned that my name had been Farisa until just a short while ago, given to me by Evan, but the Entity finally let me have my memory and my name back in a power display over me. The memory of the nightmare and torment it had placed upon my mind and body still haunted me, making the words I spoke heavy. The Legion seemed receptive to all this, offering a nod here and a murmur there, but didn’t question me until I had reached the end of my spiel, leading up to the news of a new killer on the prowl. Susie seemed excited to have someone new, Julie indifferent, Frank didn’t show any interest, but Joe seemed worried about it.

            “So that’s why you took so long to visit us?” Susie took a seat beside me, wrapping my hands with hers and holding them close to her chest. I chewed my lip and responded with a mute nod, to which she gripped my hands tighter and muttered under her breath, “Damned Entity.”

            “Susie, watch what you say…” Frank warned in a low tone, finally sitting up. Now that he was actually paying attention, and sitting up to lean towards us, I could see the concern in those blue depths. “It may hear you.”

            “Good, I want it to.” She retorted with a snarky look on her face. With a grandeur flourish, she presented a middle finger to the ceiling, “I want It to know I hate It.”

            _Oh you do?_

Silence befell us, heavy in the din of the ski resort. Joe took a few long strides towards us, standing at my back while the other two rose and took up my other side and front. It was here, and It was curious. Susie swallowed, tucking her hands into her armpits, “I mean, you pulled us here against our will. We wanted to see the world, outside of Mount Ormond!”

            _And now you have a world all to your own. I believe I did a good enough job at presenting you lot with ample ground to run, gave you knives to plunge into your victims, a warm place to gather when you need rest. And yet you hate me?_

“I didn’t-”

            _Susie, Susie, Susie… I expected better._

“Vanessa, come with me.” I heard Joe whisper behind me, and his arms heaved me up until I was draped over his shoulder. I knew better than to fight it; had he really wanted to kill me, he would have. I squeezed handfuls of his jacket, hoping that the Entity wouldn’t question us, would keep Its attention on Susie, as selfish as that was. “Susie will be okay. We’re going to wait outside until It is gone.”

            I cast a small look behind us, to Susie who looked so small and nervous, and to Julie and Frank who sat beside her defensively, eyes turned up to the ceiling at the deity that reigned supreme in this domain. I felt so many things, pity that Susie had to go through that, guilt that the Entity had found us in our little safety zone, and anger that we had to answer to a puff of smoke. It gave me an idea, one that I would need not only Legion’s help, but other killers and the survivors to be in on too.


	21. Chapter 21

            The Entity didn’t stay long, just came to bitch at me because I wasn’t doing Its dirty work. Of course, the others were worried about the damned thing coming back and insisted we walk Vanessa to Evan’s place, so we did. Not sure why she wouldn’t want to go back and be with the other survivors, but I didn’t think it right to pry. She didn’t seem like the kind to like a lot of people, and y’know, it is kind of strange that she enjoys talking to us killers so much. But while we walked, she mentioned something interesting and fun, and of course maybe just a little bit dangerous.

            She had proposed a meeting between all the killers, a sort of powwow to get on the same page with each other. Vee didn’t like how the Entity treated us, which was surprising considering she was a survivor, but come to think of it, the Entity didn’t treat them all that well either. She wanted Evan to lead, which was only fair since he’s been here in the Realm longer than any of us. Where I come in, though, is helping Joe, Julie, and Frank round up everyone else, since we know the others won’t attack us. Except maybe Freddy and Mikey, they’re not so nice.

            So, first thing’s first, after dropping her off and getting introduced to Danny- nice guy, talkative so he was personable- we split in different directions to gather everyone up. I first hit up Azarov’s Wrecking Place, found Philip idling in the gas station with a faraway look in his blanked-out eyes, and invited him along. I didn’t mind Philip, but something about the way he was made, how he came to be here, just didn’t seem right. But again, not my business to pry, just invite, and bing-bong boy went on his way towards the MacMillan Estate with no fuss.

            However, now I had two charges left that would be a bit more difficult to convince. First, of course, was Adiris, much more level-headed than the other crazy lady that prowled the Red Forest. The only thing really making it hard to convince her was the language barrier. Which, in all fairness, she’s from a time that spoke a now dead language. I crossed the threshold into the thick trees, catching sight of a tall shrine that reached way, way up into the sky, so far that I couldn’t see the top even if I tried to. Accompanying the fog that hung heavy around broken pillars and stone was the thick scent of incense and decay, a unique scent that followed Adiris wherever she went. Lo and behold, there she goes now, white robes billowing behind her as she made her way up the stairs and into the guts of the large structure.

            But to my surprise, she was not the only one headed into the temple. Behind her was Anna, tailed only by the chainsaw boys, Max and Junior. This just turned from a brief interaction with stinky to a full-blown meeting with four killers instead of just two. I groaned low, pushing my fingers through my pink extensions to think; I can either wait on these two, go find the other killers first… Or get this over with now and not have to come back to this smelly place ever again. With a turn of my stomach, I began to lurch up the stone steps, calling after them, “Hey, wait, wait!”

            This did not earn me the welcome I wanted. I was stopped in my tracks by the edge of a broad axe centimeters from my masked face, and a pair of chainsaws revved in my ears. I swallowed hard, raising my hands to my face to take off my mask, “Hey now, no need for the weaponry, guys. I just have a message.”

            “Since when did Legion become a bunch of messengers?” growled the predatory Anna, her dark eyes gleaming behind her hare mask. Her grip on her axe did not falter, but a flick of her other hand stopped the chainsaws. I was safe from them, at least. “More importantly, what message?”

            “The Trapper wants to hold a meeting with everyone.” I let my eyes part from Anna’s face to glance behind her at the priestess Adiris, only to be warned back by a surprised grunt. “I know, its super sudden, and it caught me by surprise too. He wants to have everyone at the broken storehouse, only place big enough to house everyone.” Anna’s frown pressed into a thin line, and I worried that she was about to refuse and kick me from this place. Which wouldn’t be so bad, I felt overwhelmingly nauseated in Adiris’s presence.

            I felt a tug on my hair. Junior had taken a liking to the pink color and was inspecting it in his thick, meaty hands. I raised a brow, but didn’t move, not wanting to upset him and earn a hit from his sledgehammer. Anna watched the interaction for a moment, gauging whether she should intervene, then decided better of it. “I’ll come. I’ll bring the boys too, but they probably won’t understand it well.” Max had taken up my other side and was messing with my other lock of pink extensions. “As for Adiris, I’ll bring her too. I’ve been the only one able to get anything through to her, and her English still isn’t great.”

            “You’d think the Entity would give us some kind of ability to speak with each other.” I grumbled, taking a slow seat between the two boys. “But I guess that’s part of why Evan wants to meet with everyone. Try to communicate between us, cuz honestly I don’t remember the last time I came here outside of a Trial.”

            “I remember,” Anna’s axe finally lowered, holstered now in a loop on her belt. “It was when you and your lot decided you wanted to explore my woods.” A blush flooded my cheeks, but she only chuckled. “You lot are young, and newer than I to this Realm. It’s only natural to explore. How many others are being invited?”

            That was a number I didn’t think about. “Well, we’re not inviting Michael or Freddy. Too scary, too tricky, and not too trustworthy.” The hare-masked woman nodded slowly, agreeing grimly. “So, I guess everyone else who shows up? Philip was already headed there, and I’m not sure how the others are doing.”

            “I see. Well, I guess we better get going then.” Anna patted Junior and Max’s shoulders, not unlike a mother would to her children, and the boys rose to their feet and left my hair alone. “Your patience with them is appreciated.” I looked up at Junior first, who waved sheepishly at me, then up at Max, who merely bobbed his head at me. “They like your hair. It’s… colorful. Like a bird.” I didn’t want to think about what fascination the boys had with colors and birds, so I didn’t dwell on it. I stood up and re-fashioned my mask over my face, then made a motion for them to follow.

*-*-*

            When Vanessa came back to my cave and told me of this impromptu plan she just thought of to get a _s many killers as we can in one place_ , I was sold that she was absolutely nuts. I could entertain her wanting to stay with me rather than go back to the campfire where she belongs, and I let her have her way when she approached Danny that one time, but now she wanted to get everyone she knew and didn’t know together to make some plan against the beast that kept us here. She was insistent that this needed to happen, that she had this idea and this theory that she needed to share with the rest of us. And for her idea to work, she needed all of us to cooperate.

            Under regular circumstances, this would never have happened. But Vanessa wasn’t like the others, and she makes me feel more human than I have in a long time. So, of course, I agreed just so I could see that determination and hope flourish in her eyes, spreading to her smile-dimpled cheeks.

            After the Legion had gone for their respective targets, I took her and Danny to the broken-down storehouse that could possibly be the only place big enough for everyone. She wanted to make sure all the boxes were moved aside into places the killers could sit on or give enough space for standing room in case more of them came than expected. I had already moved two shelving units when Philip made his way through the big doors, and immediately lent Vanessa a hand with a particularly heavy box- which caught me by surprise, since the man was always the one to complain about the survivors.

            Maybe this could work.

            “Where do you want these?” Danny was pushing two larger boxes, not having the size or strength to lift them up like I could. His question was directed towards the smaller girl, who was organizing this whole thing. Standing back here, watching her from afar, seeing her face deep in thought as she figured out the best way to handle this meeting, it made me realize the gravity of this situation. We were working under the Entity’s nose to go against Its rules, led by one of the survivors whom we’ve been tasked to kill for Its satisfaction. The Entity did not like the idea of Its reapers converging in one place, under one roof, with a plan most or all of us were going to follow.

            “Vanessa,” I found myself raising my voice to her, catching her attention and drawing her away from where she was overseeing Philip and Danny. She gave them a few parting instructions before trotting over. I took her by the hand and led her to aside, putting some distance between us and the other two before bending down to her, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

            The small girl wrapped her tiny hands around mine, giving me a not-so-sure smile. “Honestly, I’m not.” She looked back over her shoulder at Philip, who had dropped a particularly heavy box on top of the storage shelf. Her grey blue eyes showed some deep-rooted worry, an ocean of thoughts, plans, creativity that constantly surprises me even now. “I invited everyone who’s spent however long hunting us down to _talk_ about ways to go against the Entity, who may very well know about this meeting.” Her hands slipped from mine now to instead squeeze fistfuls of her sleeves, a nervous habit I learned that she had. “This is so incredibly dangerous, and if this goes horribly wrong, then we’re all in so much danger. I don’t even know what It’ll do.”

            There it was. She was a nervous wreck, and she was doing her absolute best not to show it. My hands laid heavy on her shoulders, pulling her in closer so she rest flush against my chest, “We know the danger. You’re not the only one nervous, here.” Her head moved against my chest, so I looked down to meet her greyish gaze. “But perhaps you should hide out for a bit first, let me warm them up so they don’t maul you immediately.” This won a chuckle from her, and a tight squeeze of her arms.

            “I think they’re starting to show up.” Philip’s voice echoed on the groaning metal walls of the storehouse. Slowly, I unwrapped Vanessa from my arms and ushered her towards one of the decrepit red lockers that lined the wall, whispered for her to stay inside until I beckoned her out, then turned to meet our arrivals.

*-*-*

            It was strange, seeing everyone here in this place. I had often seen Evan’s estate in my own Trials, and heard of Joe’s many triumphs against survivors that raced through this very building, but never had I seen so many of us in one place. Jeffrey sat heavily on a crate, fondling his keyring of fingers while watching the rest of the crowd just as curiously as everyone else did. Evan himself stood at the front, leaned against the wall with meat cleaver in hand and a cautious, if not nervous look in his eye- Vanessa must be close by, then. Philip was standoffish, keeping close to the wall with an easy way out of the bay doors, mirroring what most of the other killers appeared to be. Except for maybe Herman, who stood close to Joe on the other side of the warehouse, murmuring something for his ears only. I could only raise a brow in interest, not sure what to make of those two.

            What really caught my attention was Anna. She seemed to walk around as though she owned the place, like she had prowled these woods on different terms with the master of the Estate himself. Even now, she stood close to him, quietly chatting and exchanging words that I couldn’t hope to hear over the noise. She almost looked gentle next to him, lightly touching his arm even though he kept brushing her off. Y’know, if I didn’t know better, it almost looked like Evan and Anna were-

            Ohhhhhh. Oh. Old chemistry. I couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of Evan turning Anna down after however many rendezvous they had.

            My thoughts were interrupted by a gruff, sickly cough, disgustingly wet in the Clown’s throat. “So, you gonna explain why we’re all here?” He spoke in a thick-tongued dialect that made his words sound swallowed in a smoker’s rasp. If I wasn’t here in support of Vanessa, I would’ve wrinkled my nose and walked out the storehouse. “We didn’t all just come here for a meet and greet, did we?”

            “I’m curious, too.” Now it was Rin’s turn to speak up, spoken in careful English. Now this killer was one I hadn’t really spoken much too, but more so heard about from the survivors as they ran. She was skilled in scaring the absolute hell out of them by popping up from nowhere and yanking them from the guts of the generators. Which was an amazing feat, considering not all of her body parts were attached. “Why have a meet and greet now, after all this time? Surely we know about each other enough by now to not need to meet for this foolery?”

            “We’ve got Trials to go into.” Lisa’s hiss could be heard even though she could hardly be seen amongst all the bodies. Which was fine, since she didn’t appear human anyway. “We’ve got survivors to hunt. Unless you want to upset the Entity?”

            This had the storehouse grow quiet. Danny crept from behind the group and made his way to the front, a thick looking journal in his gloved hands. I hadn’t been aware that he was behind us the entire time, and seeing him slide past me with a whisper of his cloak made my heart lurch in my chest; it had been a long time since something had jump-scared me. “That’s precisely what we want to do.” With a flourish, he turned on his heel and bowed to the crowd. When he straightened, the mask was gone, showing us his freckled, sun-kissed face.

            “Who’s this dipshit?” A woman’s voice now. A few of the killers parted so that Amanda could step forward, her pig head held under one of her long arms. She had her dark hair tied up into a messy ponytail, and grease was smudged over her pointed features from working on her reverse bear traps. She was another killer I had heard a lot about but hadn’t seen much, more because she liked to stick in her workshop than be social. From what the survivors spoke of while I chased them, Amanda liked to ambush them when they least expected it and slam a trap over their heads.

            “I’m the new guy, Danny. Or the Ghost, as the Entity calls me.” The corner of his mouth quirked up in a sheepish smile. “And you, my lady?” This won an eye roll and a chorus of giggles from a few of the other killers. “Anyway, as for the reason we’re all here. When I came into the Realm, the Entity told me nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

            This I hadn’t heard before. I looked over to my other compatriots, exchanging looks with Frank and Julie, before returning my attention to the slim man, “The Entity told me not to worry about you lot, to only worry about one thing, and that’s to kill as many survivors as I can. Didn’t tell me how I got here, where ‘here’ is, and why this is. Do any of you know the answer to these questions?”

            Well, I certainly didn’t know the answers. And by the quiet of the others, no one else did either. I twirled a strand of my hair around my fingers, waiting for someone to say something, anything, to alleviate the quiet. But no one spoke, so of course, I did, “Do you have the answers?” I wished I didn’t sound so sassy for once, since this was a serious meeting with everyone here. I felt a few eyes land on me, inspecting me and who I possibly could be. Much like how I had heard of them, surely they had heard of me.

            “Hell no.” Danny grumbled, bringing my thoughts back to the meeting, “But I want to find out. I want the Entity to treat us with a bit more respect. Not like killing machines, trained to slaughter. And not like sheep, kept for slaughter.” This caused a few whispers to rumble from the back of the crowd, wondering at what he meant by sheep. They wouldn’t have to wonder for long; Evan moved just then, knocking on one of the red lockers that stood against one of the creaking walls. Slowly, the panel door opened out, and Vanessa made her appearance, visibly paling at the sight of all the killers.

            “What the hell is one of them doing here?” Anna was the first to hiss, immediately drawing her broad axe from her belt. Quickly, I drew my own knife and pushed my way to the front, placing myself between the angry huntress and her prey. “Worse yet, why is it _her_?” Man, she was _angry_. I was sure there was about to be a cat fight between the huge Russian woman and the smaller American girl. “Evan, you can’t expect us to follow this- this!”

            “Anna, let me explain,” Evan began calmly, placing his hands over hers on the handle of her massive weapon. “She’s the closest anyone has gotten to getting on the Entity’s nerves, and moreover, the closest anyone has gotten to figuring out the answers we all want. You really want to jeopardize that? You want to jeopardize a possible way out of this miserable place?”

            Anna grit her teeth, frozen in place under Evan’s huge mitts. I could see the embers of a long ago relationship, the trust Evan still had in her and the faith she had in him. I couldn’t see her face from where I stood, but judging by Evan’s pleading gaze, she was troubled at whether she should give in. The chainsaw boys seemed ill at ease with Anna’s fleeting rage, making groaning and grunting sounds while plucking at her sleeves and shirt, begging for her attention, wanting to figure out what was wrong. I thought I heard one of them say her name.

            “I want to hear why we should listen to her.” Anna’s words were heavy, almost defeated. “But I want to hear it from her.” Vanessa had made her way over to Danny, staying close by him in the case that Anna decided it wasn’t worth her time. I cast a small look around the warehouse, and noticed it wasn’t just Anna who felt this way. All eyes were on the girl, weapons were clutched in tight-fingered grips, and curiosity was burning in everyone.

            It was up to her to make her case.


	22. Chapter 22

            My heartbeat was pounding in my ears, and the unnerving sense of impending danger and doom had my teeth set on edge. I could feel their auras even through the thin wood of the closet walls, barely see an array of bodies collected in a crowded mass. I heard their speeches, could practically listen to their mannerisms by the way they talked, could pick apart who I knew and who I didn’t by the pitch and tone of their voice. I think the most terrifying aura was that of the Huntress, for I knew she had some sort of grief with me that I had yet to figure out.

            I listened to Danny address the mass, tried to gauge their reactions to this crazy idea I was about to present them. They seemed receptive and willing, until I finally made my appearance. There were a lot more of them than I expected, a _lot_ more, clustered in the darkness of the tall, abandoned storehouse. A woman with a bloated pig head held close under her arm and a scowl on her face, a sickly clown that seemed disgustingly hungry for some sausage-looking things that hung on a key chain, the other parts of Legion who were scattered throughout the crowd and Herman, who hung overwhelmingly close to Joe. What was more terrifying was the rabbit-masked woman who had her broad axe ready almost as soon as I was in view. Behind her, a tall man in a yellow, blood-smeared apron and the Hillbilly stood with chainsaws idly revving, prepared to come at me should the woman command it.

            I knew Evan wouldn’t let her touch me, or anywhere close to me. He had already taken a stand between us, grabbing her hands on the hilt of her deadly weapon and looking her straight in her glowing red eyes. It was something I had noticed, curiously enough; whenever the killers were in chase, or were filled with the murderous intent that spurred them through the Trials, their eyes glowed an ominous red that seemed to light the space before them and make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. But here, the only one who’s eyes glowed were hers, dimming as Evan spoke to her, face to face, holding her gaze away from me. Something gnawed at my belly, more sickening than hunger, and I couldn’t quite place the feeling as I watched the two of them. I went closer to Danny, just in case Evan couldn’t convince her. I could see Susie out of the corner of my eye, closing the distance between us and taking a passive stance between me and the woman, just behind Evan so that she was closer to me. We exchanged a brief look, one of reassurance from her and I searching for it, when I heard Anna speak through grit teeth, “I want to hear why we should listen to her. But I want to hear it from her.”

            All eyes on me, then. I swallowed hard, trying not to meet their gaze as I took my place before the crowd. All eyes on me, the heartbeat of a thousand predators roaring in my ears, moonlight filtering through holes in the ceiling and glinting off rusted and polished metal alike that lay in the bloodied hands of those before me. One wrong word, one wrong step, and it was death. The Entity would discover what I was trying to do and would think of a far worse punishment than possessing me. I would never be able to try this again.

            I had to be brave. Not just for my sake, or for Evan’s sake. For everyone’s here.

            “I know I have no right to be here,” I began, raising my chin to look first at Susie, then Julie, two of the killers I trusted amongst this group. “And I know you must think I’m crazy for wanting to get all of you here to talk. What survivor, in their right mind, would propose something like this?” I glanced to my left at Danny, who gave me a cheeky thumbs up and a nod. “Well, I’m the survivor who’s not right in the head. I am the survivor who worries about you lot when the others want to put together their best flashlight. I’m the survivor who genuinely wants there to be some kind of agreement between us and you guys.”

            “Why the hell do you care?” The woman with the pig head growled, flexing her right hand into a fist. I saw a little blade stretch out from beneath her sleeve, a small threat to my person if I weren’t careful. But no glow to her eyes just yet. “None of the others have cared before. Hell, that little shithead Jake Park has broken my traps on himself and the others without the keys to from my boxes, not to mention that weasel Nea who somehow seems to know where every single pallet is.”

            “Look, I don’t like Nea either,” I started, trying to offer a sort of half smile, “and I…” Oh. Why do I care? I felt panic well up in my chest, felt it drown me in the sea of terror that was rising around me. Think, think, why do I care? “… the others treat you guys like monsters. Bloodthirsty, mindless villains that want nothing but our blood… but you’re not.” I raised my eyes from where they had fallen to the floor to meet her dark gaze directly. “You’re as human as I am, just hit with different circumstances. Any one of us could be in each other’s shoes. It could have been me chasing you guys down, or worse yet, it could have been Nea. She and a lot of the others have not been kind to you, and you all have not been kind in turn. And that’s how it should be, right? Predator versus prey, over and over and over again, doing the Entity’s bidding, doing Its dirty work. It’s just been an endless circle of getting back at each other. Do any of you know why we’re here? Why we’re stuck in this circle?” I exchanged looks now with the hunched over Clown, then to the girl in pieces, before finally settling with a bag-headed woman who loomed close to Philip with a hand wrapped tight around his. “Because as far as I know, this is some sick game that It takes pleasure in, maybe even feeds off of. What exactly does It demand from each and every one of you, without fail?”

            “Blood.” Susie was quick to answer, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. She looked at the others who had turned to her, nodding their affirmations that she was, in fact, right. “It always asks for blood.”

            “And sacrifice.” Evan growled now too, in a cross-armed stance close by. Anna had retreated to stand between the two men armed with chainsaws, stroking their arms in a comforting manner as to distract herself into staying calm. “It always wants sacrifice, at any cost.”

            “It gives you powers, hexes, abilities that you otherwise would not have to hunt us down. It is what made you monsters, not who you are.” I continued, looking at Philip now. “The fault is not yours, it’s the Entity’s. That damned beast, who puts Its favor in a select few of you, who leaves you be until It decides It wants you again, is the one in control of this world. And you know what? That’s not fair.” I clenched my hands into fists now, feeling my nails bite into my palms. I could remember the grief on Evan’s face as he thought back on his father and the Estate. I could remember the frustration that emanated off of Philip after Nea had outran and tormented him. “You all didn’t want this fate, and neither did we. It’s not fair that we be pitted like this against each other for no one’s gain but the Entity’s.”

            “So what do you suggest?” The ghostly voice belonged to the girl whose limbs weren’t all connected to her body. Her haunted white eyes were locked onto mine, gentle suspicion hidden in those pearly depths, but also, the smallest flicker of hope. She was willing to try.

            “I want to try an experiment,” I folded my hands in front of me, pressing my knuckles to my chin while I tried to piece the thoughts together, “and if it works, and I’m right… We may have a way to get leverage against the Entity. For this to work, we have to work together. Not all of the survivors are going to listen to me, cuz they don’t all trust or like me, for that matter… but for those I can convince, you’ll know who’s who.”

            I was having a difficult time putting my words together, but I somehow managed it. The killers bobbed their heads as I talked, some asking questions here and there, what they should do if whatever happens, and I did my best to answer their concerns. The deafening roar in my ears had dulled first to a murmur, until it was gone altogether. I took it as a sign that the killers were actually, fully listening to me, and taking in what I had to say. I got to know them a bit, meet the killers I hadn’t met before, and got a little backstory on them. Danny, of course, was writing every single thing down, from my plan to the backstories, abilities that seemed specific to certain killers and what little tricks the Entity had given to them. Jeffrey, the Clown, called one of his little quirks _Bamboozle_ , whereas Anna relented she had a special lullaby she could use to hex the generators. The Hag, Lisa, seemed proud to show off her tribal marks and tell me all about her hex quirks, which apparently every killer seemed to ask to be taught _Ruin_. Between Danny’s writings in his book and the killers’ willingness to talk about themselves, I had my own version of Benedict’s journal, a far more accurate one.

            “What will you do about those who didn’t arrive?” The Pig, or Amanda as the others called her, addressed me after the killers began passing around tonic bottles Jeffrey had brought along. She was a quiet girl who was happiest in her shop, and I had promised I would try to get a compromise between her and our own saboteur, Jake. “And the boys, there. With the chainsaws. They don’t understand much other than hunt, but Freddy and Michael…”

            The true hunters of the Realm. They thirsted for blood and didn’t care where their kills came from. They wanted nothing more than to feel blood splash over their skin. I hadn’t thought much on what to do against them, but then again, there wasn’t much to do. “Well… I guess it goes both ways. If the survivors don’t play the game with you guys, then don’t play the game with them. Hunt them down as a Trial normally would go. We don’t want the Entity to get suspicious.” The word tasted bad on my tongue, suggesting these killers hunt those who weren’t with me, but there would be only a few. “And that’ll be the same for you guys. If you don’t play the game, we won’t either.”

            “Ruthless, but smart.” Amanda nodded slowly, thumbing the skin of her pig head. A soft, lonesome chuckle rumbled from her chest, “John would’ve liked you.” The other killers called her over to where they had collected by an open window, and she left without giving me an explanation on who John was. Perhaps a piece of her past she wasn’t ready to give out just yet.

            Finally given a chance to digest everything that just happened, I took a few paces back to really look at this gathering of people from all walks of life. Philip had his long, gangly arms wrapped around the bandaged woman I learned was Sally, the Nurse, exchanging soft words with her with not a care if anyone else heard. I could hear Susie giggling as she chatted with Rin, the girl who’s shattered bloodline led her into the Entity’s cruel grasp. Even Herman seemed genuinely interested in chatting with the others, if just to pick at their brains. Seeing them get along together, laugh and get to know one another, it gave me reason to hope that my plan maybe, could possibly, work.

            But… I was getting really tired. My eyes felt heavy. When was the last time I had slept? I remembered going into a few Trials, remembered going to Ormond, but I couldn’t recall when I had slept last. The exhaustion was wearing heavy on me now, and I wasn’t sure I could stand much longer.

            “Vanessa?” Someone shook my shoulder lightly, but their voice sounded warbled through the lullaby that droned in my ears. I tried to turn and see, tried to keep my eyes open…

…but the landscape shifted, and the world changed. Black leaves drifted from the ceiling, falling around the now empty warehouse. Nothing but that damned lullaby could be heard, filling my head with fuzzy, static nonsense. I couldn’t see straight, but I didn’t need to.

            The man before me now didn’t need me to see straight. Didn’t need any kind of introduction. The claws that shimmied together were enough of a giveaway to know who I was dealing with. I tried to swallow the panic rising in my throat, tried to steel myself against what was about to come. This man was dangerous, and nothing here could possibly protect me from those steel claws.

            “So, Vanessa. Right?” My name rolled off his lips with a purr, sending a chill shuddering down my spine. “Man, oh, _man._ The Entity has told me some shit about you.” A dark chuckle echoed off the walls, mimicking the heavy footsteps he made towards me. I took a step back into a vicious red puddle, shocking me as the screams of the damned wailed at me, bloody hands tearing at my legs and clothes. My legs were rooted to the spot by the hands that grasped and yanked at my clothing. “Finding things you’re not supposed to, fraternizing with Evan? Oh my darling dear, the Entity does _not_ like you.”

            “Yeah, I know.” My voice quaked, threatening to give away the fear that had my limbs frozen. I didn’t move an inch, even as he stood a breath away from me, his free hand fumbling with what looked like a little black box that hung on a chain from his belt. “Its been pretty straight in making sure I know that much.” I looked past his shoulder, refusing to look at him directly in the eye, avoiding paying too much attention to the uneven flesh and scars that marred his complexion.

            “Imagine what It would think if It knew about this little meeting you put together.” Freddy walked a slow circle around me, flexing his hand to conjure up another crimson pool beneath my feet. I did my best not to cringe at the fingers that clawed at my legs, staining my pant legs with their demise. “What do you have planned? I’m dying to know.” His claws caressed my chin, gentle yet cold, promising a cruel death should he wish it.

            Well… this was a chance I was going to take. “If you’re dying to know, are you willing to be part of it too?” His brows raised with curiosity, and I thought I saw a dimpled smile grace his face. “You could be in on it, too… What are your thoughts on the Entity, before we get into it?”

            “Mm, see, I don’t like the Entity.” He hummed, drawing a red line down my throat. His claws teased at the hem of my hoodie, “and I sure as hell don’t like this hoodie. Trashy. I thought Jake was the hobo, not you.” At my scoff, the razor-sharp weapons rose back to my throat. “Hey, just because I don’t like the damned thing doesn’t mean I don’t like this place. Here… I can fuck around however much I want. Survivors? Dead in my claws. Killers? Only good one here is me.” He wasn’t looking directly at me, so I thought it might be safe to roll my eyes. “I can see dreams, turn them into nightmares, and make them reality. I wonder about your nightmares. What makes you tick?”

            I felt a piercing pain on my arm. I knew what I would see if I looked down. I didn’t want to.

            “It doesn’t take much to terrify you, huh? You’re still so new, so young. So fresh.” His chuckle turned dark, low, taking on a slimier feel as he spoke in that low volume. He leaned in closer, close to my ear, “But unique, too. Hopeful you can maybe win, as if this were some game. Do the objectives, run and escape from the big bad killer, get the doors open and get out. Again, and again, over and over, until maybe one day you won’t have to anymore.” I felt an ice-cold rush through my veins, and the pain in my arm grew harsher, throbbing with the chill. His claws plucked at the instrument in my arm, the one I refused to acknowledge. “But no matter how hard you try, you will always come back here, at the mercy of the monsters. The Entity’s got nothing on me.”

            “The Entity’s what made you. Without it, you’re just a man.” I spit back, trying to sound less terrified than I was. My false bravery was seen through, and my threat laughed at. His claws pushed against my collarbone, pricking the skin and drawing blood. I grit my teeth against the pain, refusing to back down, “You’ve no power-”

            “Oh, darling dearest, you don’t understand.” Freddy’s grin was less personable and more sinister now. His claws sunk an inch deeper, the sharp blades beginning to push down towards my belly, “The Entity didn’t pick me up like some stray kitten and give me claws. I came with them.”

            Just before his claws could rip through my belly and gut me, I was yanked backwards, feeling a sharp pain from behind pierce deep into my shoulder. The world snapped back, Freddy and his chilling lullaby were gone, and all the killers were back in the warehouse. Eyes were fixated on me, some curious, some worried, but most were indifferent. Some of the killers I hadn’t chatted with as much hung back, but Susie and Evan were huddled around close to me, pushing wads of fabric against something bloody.

            Oh wait, I’m the bloody one. Deep gashes stained my chest red, and a deep wound poured blood from my shoulder blade, probably inflicted by Susie. I looked down at my arm, relief washing over me to find that whatever nightmare he had tried to give me couldn’t reach me now, and the pain from Susie’s knife had brought me back to the waking world. My hand found hers, squeezed it hard, thankful that she was there to pull me back.

            “We need to get you home.” Susie finally murmured, offering a smile. “We know what to do, and we’ll do our part. Now it’s time for you to do yours, ‘kay?” Her hands pushed against the wound on my chest again, making sure that the bleeding was mostly stopped before finally giving a nod to Evan. “He’s going to carry you most of the way, but I’m gonna carry you into the circle. Less menacing that way.”

            “Thanks, Susie.” I groaned when I felt Evan’s arms loop under me, raising me from the bloody pool I had left on the floor. “Sorry Evan, I got blood everywhere.” He responded with a grunt, muttering something about not worrying about it. But now, I was really, truly tired, and I found my eyes closing, lulled by the rock of Evan’s footsteps as we made our way out of the Estate.

*-*-*

            Vanessa’s head had begun to loll to one side, and I knew that the Nightmare had arrived at our little gathering. Susie caught on just as quickly as I had, but we just hadn’t been quick enough to keep her from falling asleep. I caught her just as soon as she begun to fall over, slowly easing her down to the floor as gently as I could. A few of the others looked over our way, most notably Herman and Amanda, but they made no move to come closer.

            “Who invited Freddy?” I hissed quietly, just low enough that only the pink-haired Legion could hear. My hand cupped Vanessa’s cheek in my palm, thumbing the soft spatter of freckles that were just barely visible on her pale skin, helpless as I watched her expression twitch in her dream state. When I raised my eyes to take in the other parts of her team, they each shook their head, pleading innocence. “How do we wake her up?”

            “I don’t know, I’ve never really heard the survivors talk about Freddy.” Susie whimpered, taking Vanessa’s hand. I could just barely see the worried glint in her pure blue eyes, shadowed by the mask that covered her face. “… do you think she’s trying to convince him too?”

            “She’s a nutcase. I wouldn’t put it past her not to try.” I grumbled, tapping her cheekbone now. How could I wake her up? I tried shaking her, patting her cheek, clapping by her face but it was no use. He had placed her under a heavy spell… we would have to wait, or intervene if need be. She didn’t seem to be in pain, but her face suggested that she was trying hard not to convey her fear to the nightmarish man that walked the dream realm. “Freddy wouldn’t be bad to have on our side, but… He’s too prideful for that. Thinks he’s better than the Entity.”

            “I mean… we all are, in a way.” Her hands gently took hold of Vanessa’s, her thumbs lightly passing over her knuckles in a sort of endearing way. “Better than the Entity, I mean. Like Vanessa was saying… we’re not the monsters It made us out to be. And I think that’s worth noting.”

            I couldn’t help but think that Susie was right. We weren’t the monsters in this realm, the Entity was. And if this plan that Vanessa’s concocted somehow works, and we get any kind of leverage against the beast in the sky and Its favorite servants, then I could maybe, just maybe hope for a way out of this hellish nightmare and back home.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I didn't upload this yesterday! I moved into my college dorm and was very, *very* tired after it all. Thank you all for being patient!
> 
> Also! I never really announced Vee's perks (I did think of her perks!) but I'm gonna have to change the name of one of them. I mean, I'm excited for the Stranger Things update, but I thought of the perk name "Second Wind" first... ANYWAY! Eventually I'll get around to actually showcasing her perks (but little did you know, I was hinting at them throughout some of the chapters).

            The trek to the survivor campfire was a short one, but maybe that was partially due to sleeping the entire way. I had finally come around to full consciousness when Evan had lowered me into Susie’s careful hold, the girl wrapping my arm around her shoulders to better support my weight. The movement hurt both the gashes in my chest and the hole in my shoulder blade, but at least both wounds had begun to miraculously stitch themselves closed.

            Of course, how could I forget my welcoming committee? I had my eyes screwed tight from the pain, but I could hear them. Footsteps ranging from light-weighted Claudette to heavier sounding ones that must have belonged to Jeff. I heard Susie suck in a breath, seemingly nervous to be within the fire’s light on the survivor side, even though her body didn’t shake or seem to grow taut with her worries. I couldn’t help but think she was being brave for me.

            “Now what did you get yourself into?” I was so relieved to hear Quentin’s voice, the first to say anything and the only one, judging by the sound, to get close enough to Susie to reach for me. “We’ve all been worried sick. No one has seen you back at the campfire since before that round you went into with Dwight.” I managed to open my eyes just a sliver so I could look up into his gaunt, worried face. “You’re a train wreck, you know that, right?”

            I heard Evan growl softly from the tree line, making his presence known to the others and that Quentin shouldn’t act so friendly. I waved a dismissive hand to weakly ward away the possessiveness. “I know, I know. I… well. It’s hard to explain.” I wasn’t even sure on where to begin. The new killer, my meeting with the Legion, with the killer rendezvous maybe? There was so much to piece together, and the pain that coursed through my limbs like fire was making it hard to concentrate.

            “Then I guess you better start explaining then.” That voice came from a very angry sounding Feng Min. Looking past Quentin, I could see her with her arms folded over her chest and a harsh scowl on her face. “Because I am losing all faith in you as a survivor. You’re never here, we only ever see you in Trials, and I’m about to start leaving your ass on that hook if you keep running off to suck their dicks. Not like you’ll ever end up on that damned thing anyway, your precious killer friends would rather see you bent over a barrel with your ass in the air.”

            Susie’s hands tightened on my shoulder, but she didn’t say anything. Neither did Evan, to my surprise. Slowly, I untangled myself from the pink-haired killer to stand on my own, wincing at the reopening of my wounds. “Excuse me for trying to figure something out, our _almighty leader_.” I let my pain steep my words in venom, trying to get an edge on her. “But I’ve never once felt welcome in this group. The killers have been more welcoming than a bunch of you have.” I made sure to keep my eyes locked with Feng’s, but I know I saw a few feet of the other survivors shuffle. “Now will you listen to what I have to say, or will I be silenced again for not being trustworthy?”

            “You have no right to speak.” Feng’s voice had turned to a low growl. “Not to me. Not to any of us. If you weren’t a survivor, I wouldn’t even let you in this circle.” She looked almost ready to send me back with Susie and Evan, which to be honest wouldn’t be that bad compared to the welcome I had received here. “Thank you, Legion, Trapper. But you can leave now.”

            I turned to look at the two, Susie being barely in the circle and Evan staying well beyond. With their masks on, I couldn’t see their expressions, but they looked ready to go judging by the fists their hands had curled into. “Thank you, Susie. Thank you, Evan. I’ll be okay.” I made it a point to use their names, offering them as best a smile I could. “I’ll see you in a round, yeah?”

            “… Yeah.” Evan muttered, slowly turning away before disappearing into the shadows. Susie took a bit longer to go, hesitating at the circle’s edge to watch me just for a little longer. She didn’t want to go, and it hurt to see that. But she had to leave, if I was to get our plan into motion. I mouthed to her that it would be okay, that I had a handle on this. This seemed to give her enough push to finally go, and she left and disappeared into the shadows much like Evan had.

            After they were gone, there was some sort of semblance of normal in the circle. Item checking, generator mapping, figuring out tactics against the killers and who would be team runner. Well… there was one new killer in the mix that they were having a hard time figuring out how to handle.

            “Nea, I still can’t believe you went, ‘Oh! You’re looking for her? She’s over there!’ Like, are you kidding me!?” Jane was howling from the other side of the fire, her hands planted on her hips. “What the hell was going through your head?”

            “I was thinking, ‘Hey, Jane is over there!’” Her voice was snarky, grating on my ears. I rolled my eyes and opted to tune them out instead of listening in anymore. Danny was a powerful killer, I’ll admit, but I hadn’t gone against him yet and I was not looking forward to it-

            Wait, the plan! I still needed to get a group of survivors who would cooperate. I know Quentin would probably listen, but as for everyone else… I would need to pick carefully. Claudette, maybe. Jeff was a possibility, and Bill too. So long as I had at least a team of survivors doing the plan, that was all I would need. My eyes quickly darted from face to face, trying to see who all was present and who was out on Trial.

            Quentin still stood near me, watching me carefully like I could bite. Claudette sat close to the fire, also watching me, but more so as if she were afraid of me. Feng had turned her back to me to instead inspect the stockpile of items and listen in on the cat fight between Jane and Nea, which had grown to a full-on screech fest. Everyone else was out on Trial, either having just gone or expected to be back soon. This could give me enough time to figure out a list of people, or greet them as they came back.

            I didn’t get much longer to think. The sky turned black, the trees disappeared, and so did the others. Everything was eerie, pitch black and unnaturally silent. I heard the whisper of leaves brushing together, old dried out pieces of flora that made their own creepy chiming. The Entity was beginning another Trial, and I was to be part of it, started apart from everyone else. I rubbed my eyes, trying to see, and finally did.

            The Entity had used the darkness as a means to make my wounds permanent, for the moment. I wouldn’t be able to heal for the whole match, possibly as a punishment for my absence at the campfire, but I was grateful that being permanently broken was the only punishment I was facing. It must not know of the rendezvous then. The noise that I had heard was due to the husks of corn that still stood in these rotten fields, telling me that I stood on the grounds of the Coldwind Farm. I quickly located the killer shack, sitting squat in the middle, and the two harvesters that loomed and told of harvests long past. My feet carried me to the derelict shack, hoping to find a generator inside, confirm where the basement hooks were, and maybe find a dull totem. My suspicions proved true when I saw the stairs that led down to the devilish hooks, but no generator sat in the main structure.

            Out of the window, I caught a glimpse of a blue shirt, alongside a broad-shouldered man with no shirt. Steeling myself through the pain, I pulled myself through the opening in the wall and set off after them, calling out after them, “Hey, wait!” I saw them stop and turn, David with a surprised look on his face that I was yelling after them and Quentin, the boy in the blue shirt, looked relieved that I was the one coming after them.

            “The hell are you doing, yelling like that?” David grumbled, tipping his head for us to follow him. Hearing him say that, I could hear the slight cockney accent that lilted his speech. “The killer could find us.” He was leading us towards what the others called a T-wall juncture, which hosted a generator that could be worked on from three sides.

            “Can I talk to you guys about something?” I inspected the generator but did not touch it just yet. This won a few looks of confusion, but they didn’t say anything, so I continued on, “So, there was a reason I was with the killers for so long.” David rolled his eyes at this, but I pushed on, “Look, I had a round with Susie, and we went back to Ormond after that. The Entity came and belittled her for not killing any of us. It seemed angry, but at the same time, It seemed like It wasn’t as strong as It once was.”

            “We think that there’s a connection between your deaths, and Its power.” Danny leaned in through the T-wall window, hand on his chin. This caused Quentin, who was closer to him, to leap away by about six feet before stopping behind me. I hadn’t moved, had only jumped a little at his sudden appearance. “So, we’re thinking, ‘hey, maybe if we only hook you guys, and not kill you, then maybe we can weaken this thing into submission.’ So, basically, y’see that hook right there?” The cloaked man pointed to the implied hook that stood tall amongst the corn. “Up you go, then down. Then you’re free to go.”

            “W-wait, are you serious?” I never heard Quentin squeak before, and it was honestly adorable. “You’re just going to _let us go_?”

            “That’s the plan.” I smiled at the two of them, approaching Danny to show that he was okay to go near. “And Danny isn’t the only one in on it. Legion, the Trapper, the Huntress, so many of us are together in this plan. You don’t have to agree to it, you can do the Trials as you’ve always done. But I’m ready to take a stand and make a change for the better. Not just for you and me, but for us.” I made a gesture to Danny, who feigned a hand over his heart as though touched.

            David exchanged a look with Quentin, before crossing his arms over his bare chest and meeting eyes with Danny, “And how do we know we can trust ya? I ‘aven’t gone against you yet, so I don’t know who or what you are.” Danny had repositioned himself into a seated posture in the window frame, listening to David intently. “And let’s say I do let you hook me. How can I trust my team will come for me?”

            “Because I’m trying to get as many of us in as I can.” I responded before Danny could. “Obviously not everyone is going to want to be in on it, and I know you guys don’t trust me at all… And you’ve no reason to. But I’m trying, and all I’m asking is that you do, too.”

            Another exchanged look, gears turning with amped thoughts. They weren’t sure if they could do this, but the temptation was there. I swallowed hard, looked to Danny, then over to the looming hook, then began towards it. “Like I said… you don’t have to agree to my plan or partake in it if you don’t want to. But I’m committing to it, even if I’m the only one who will.”

            “Y’know, a bit of tetanus for a free escape? I’d take it.” Danny was behind me, his heartbeat suppressed so all I could hear was the whisper of his cloak. It made my hair stand on end, hearing just the fabric and the shallowness of his breath, his respiration blowing so close by my ear and tickling my hair. I felt entirely too exposed by him, without anywhere to hide in the rows and rows of corn. This was a new sort of terror, a mute one that creeped up on you and lashed out when you least expected it. I was right under the hook when I felt it; cold steel plunged deep into the pre-existing wound, refreshing the pain that swept through me like a tidal wave. “Sorry, Ness. Shoulda aimed for another spot, eh?”

            “Y-yeah,” I barely managed to whimper. It was painful, but it was part of the plan. I didn’t want to let the Entity know just yet what we were doing, otherwise It would put a stop to it before we even had a chance to try. My stomach dropped as the cloaked man lifted me up, then instantaneously planted me onto the hook. I cried out, clutching at the hook tightly, before letting my body hang limply. Part of the plan, I had to remind myself. It was part of the plan. I closed my eyes against the agony, tried to keep my thoughts. I hadn’t been on a hook in so long, I had forgotten the overwhelming pressure it placed on the collarbone, moving things around inside and barely brushing by my heart with an inch of space to spare.

            And all at once, the pressure was gone. I felt strong hands brace my weight, holding me up against their body until I could steady myself on my own. My hands squeezed tightly around thick, stony biceps and I knew who it was that had helped me down. I breathed a tiny sigh of relief, opening my eyes to both men that held careful expressions, then looked to Danny and one by one, they nodded. They were in on the plan.

            “The other thing.” I mumbled, fighting the pain that still reverberated through every fiber of my being, “generators. We gotta mess them up as much as we can. And then… we go over the wall.” I pointed to the looming brick structure that surrounded every single map. “Someone has to stay behind, but they’ll take… what is it called, a hatch? I’ve never used it before, but last person will take that and get out.”

            “So basically. We’re not doing generators, we’re just… getting hooked once and leaving?” Quentin mumbled quietly, rubbing his neck while looking beyond us to somewhere deeper in the corn. “Well… before we get too far along, we should find our fourth and get them in on it.”

            He had a point. I grimaced as I took a few steps away from the hook, towards where Quentin was looking. Sure enough, I saw the corn stalks part as Claudette came through, a cautious expression on her face when she saw Danny lurking so close to us, but still she moved closer to us. She offered a shy smile to me, then to the men behind me, her timid nature dissipating just for a moment, “I… don’t know how you came up with this crazy plan. Or how long it will be until the Entity discovers it. But I’m in.” She must have heard me talking earlier, then. How close had she been to us this whole time that I hadn’t seen her?

            “Okay.” I took her hands in mine, squeezing them lightly, then led her back to the hook. “Then you already know what we’re doing, right? It’s going to hurt for a moment, but not for long, okay?”

            Before long, we were blowing through gens, causing sparks to fly through the corn and explosions to heat our not so careful fingers. Everyone had been hooked and healed back up, and after slamming a few pallets down to get rid of them, we went for the wall. I braced myself at the bottom, helping Quentin over first since he was the lighter of the two men. Then Claudette went up, hoisted halfway by Quentin reaching back down. All that was left was me and David to get out, one of us by the wall, the other by the hatch.

            “Well, you’re lighter than I am.” David muttered, gesturing to the wall and the waiting hands that reached down. I shook my head and took a step back, closer to Danny. “Alright then. See you at the fire, if you come back.” He cast one more sideways look back towards me, before reaching up and climbing the wall with the ease of a street cat.

            They were gone, vanishing from sight to the world beyond the wall. I held my side tight as I began to limp through the map, peering through corn rows and ducking into the shack for a moment. I wasn’t even sure what the damned thing looked like. The only thing I had to go off of was by the sound I was told it made. A hollow, whooshing sound, of a haunted wind blowing past the lip of a metal bottle. Supposedly, Benedict and his colleague, Vigo, were the ones who created the hatch when they found themselves stuck in this world. It was a way out of a Trial if you were the last one alive, if you were lucky enough to find it first. Now, it was the final piece in the plan for each Trial.

            “Over here, Vanessa.” Danny’s voice carried easily from where he was standing, silhouetted by the red metal of a harvester. I closed the gap between us, feeling the wind grow colder and the air lighter with every step. Then, I heard it, that eerie sound that would promise a safe escape. “It was a joy, seeing you in a round, but here is where we must part ways. I will see you again soon, be it in another round or on our turf.” He gave me a little bow, then moved aside from the dark pit that opened in the ground.

            I had never seen it before. It was a metal square that seemed to form unnaturally from the parched dirt, with a flap door that was opened at a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree angle. Within that square, nothing but pitch blackness. I reached a hand in, shivering at the icy touch of the darkness, before retracting back. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I launched myself forward into the darkness…

            …And got spat back out from the tree branches above the survivor campfire. I yelped as I tumbled towards the ground, thudding into the dust below the grand oak and making my presence known to the survivors that sat scattered around the fire. Well, that was certainly one way to escape a Trial, and not one I was sure I’d want to take again. I pushed myself into an upright position, leaning back against the tree to take a deep, pained breath.

            “Well, you look like you had fun.” Bill was close by, watching from his perch on a log. His eyes slid to the others, who had resumed their activities, before rising to stand and make his way towards me. He kept his watch on Feng Min especially, even while he knelt by my side and produced a gauze roll from his pocket. Oh, he wanted to heal me. I repositioned myself so he could get at the deep wound in my shoulder, letting him pack the wound and finally aid it in healing. I almost missed what he whispered to me, “So what’s the plan?”

            He knew. And he wanted in.

*-*-*

            The Trials passed, and survivors were rallied. I was able to get at least half of the survivors on my team, which was a blessing in itself. I could never hope to get Nea and Feng on my side, and a few of the others had been stuck living like this for so long, they were afraid of the change. Most notably Meg, who would much rather run rampant through the Trial and loop the Killer, and Detective Tapp who spends his Trials lurking around the edges of the map and powering through the generators.

Of course, there was a fair share of killers who didn’t do their part, but I couldn’t really blame them. The chainsaw killers, Leatherface and Hillbilly, didn’t really seem to grasp the concept of what we were trying to accomplish, but were in full support of the Huntress who seemed to care for them like a mother would. I had managed to avoid their chainsaws while carrying out the plan, and the last one of the team made it out through the hatch with the Hillbilly watching from a few meters away. And of course, there was still Freddy Kreuger and Michael Myers who were on the hunt for blood, making the plan a bit harder to carry out against them. I still had not gone against the Entity’s favorite, but Freddy was brutal in Trial.

What was more impressive to me was the fact that it was _working_. There were noticeable lapses in the Realm, proving that my hunch was correct. The Entity was feeding off us, using our blood and sacrifices to satiate Itself and grow ever more powerful, while still giving us and the killers the means to keep going and feed it even more. With the lack of sacrifice, Its resources have been stretched thin. Pallets weren’t being placed where normally there would have been, the hatch spawned in strange places where survivors couldn’t jump in, and hooks were appearing in abundance, pleading for flesh and blood to adorn the rusted metal.

            How much longer would this go on for? I was beginning to get the sinking feeling that something was very, very wrong. It had been too long since the Entity had said anything to anyone, killer or survivor alike. And with the resources stretched so thin now, items were growing scarce and I was getting the sense that It was brewing up some sort of plan to get back at us.

            So, when we went for the next Trial, it was myself, Jeff, David, and Dwight. A full team that knew of the plan, and were in support. Jeff had agreed to it much like Bill had. As for Dwight, all I had to do was mention the Huntress and he was in it for the long haul. We walked into the sheltered woods of the MacMillan estate, each of us holding a corner of a binding shroud so we would begin together. Now to figure out who our killer was to fully carry out the plan-

            “Vee.” Jeff whispered, tapping my shoulder hurriedly. His eyes were fixed in the distance, his hand making a shaky pointing motion. My first instinct was, of course, to look and see what could possibly be wrong.

            I was horrified by what I saw. She lurched towards us, walking slowly, dragging her battle axe at her side. Her hum was distorted, her head at a tilt, the fog and mist that hung low doing almost nothing to muffle her uneven footsteps and chilling song. She looked ragged, drugged, rabid. Her mask was chipped, her clothing ripped, and even her weaponry seemed worse for wear. But what was most notable was the glowing yellow pus that oozed from her mask, pouring from the eyes and nose profusely.

            Even behind the pus that coated the mask, I could see the bloody intent in her glowing red eyes.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! As some of you may remember, I started my next semester at college. With this being said, chapter updates may be a bit spotty as I work through my class load and some practicum requirements. Please bear with me and be patient as I do the updates that I can! Love you all, enjoy the chapter!

            The Trial was hellish, and a testament to just how much the Entity paid attention to amongst Its inhabitants. I had to listen hard for her song, for her footsteps to carry through the dense mist that covered the grounds of the sheltered woods. The trees blocked out the full moon’s light except for around the lone, dead tree that sat planted in the middle of the Trial grounds, making that area the only place light enough to make sense of what was going on, but going into the moon’s gentle light was sure to get you sighted.

            “I don’t understand,” I raked my fingers through my hair, pressing my back to the shadowed side of one of the dark oaks that grew on the Estate. “She agreed to the plan.” Anna had agreed, even if not wholeheartedly. Her desire to get out of here was stronger than her hatred for me, and for that I was grateful.

            “That’s not her.” Dwight mumbled, seated just beside me with his head in his hands. He looked troubled, scared even. “She looked _wrong_.” I knew what he meant. The glowing ooze that seeped from her mask and bled into her clothes, left trails in the dirt wherever she walked, was something I had never seen before. It left the fearsome Huntress woozy, sick, prowling out of ailment to alleviate herself, or perhaps satisfy whoever had done this to her.

            We heard a scream in the distance, agonized as they went down. Then more screaming, and more, until the last shriek was cut off. Then there was silence.

            “What do we do?” Dwight whispered, trembling beside me.

            What can we do? The Entity had caught on, and It was going to do what It could to punish us and Its killers. There was no way we could carry out the plan like this. With me and Dwight side by side, one dead, and the other hiding someplace else, the only way we could hope to win is by at least one of us getting out through the hatch. But who would get out? We have to make a decision, soon.

            “Dwight, Vanessa!” Jeff whispered harshly, approaching us slowly at a crouch. He clutched his side tightly, and I was more surprised he wasn’t making more noise. His iron will was showing through, even as he knelt before us with a grim look, “David is dead. She buried her axe in his skull.”

            “We heard.” Dwight whispered, sitting up some to go to Jeff. But the man just pushed him away with a shake to his head. “We don’t know what to do. We’re trying to figure it out-”

            She was getting closer. Her hum haunted the canopy, lulling us into a false sense of security. We couldn’t tell where she was coming from, only that she was getting closer. We held our breaths, pressing tight against the huge tree that offered us a slim chance at safety, pleading to ourselves that she would turn around, that she would leave us.

            Her hum stopped.

            Jeff peeked around the tree, slowly moving away from the trunk’s safety and away from us.

           Spinning steel cut through the air, quickly closing the gap between predator and prey,  planting itself deep into the bridge of his nose. He shrieked, knocked back into the grass, his fingers clawing at the handle, the metal, bloodying himself as he lay bleeding out. I turned my head away, hand over my mouth, as the frightening woman hovered over him, retrieved her hatchet, then dealt with the man in much the same fashion she had probably done to David. My heart thumped in my chest, and I thought I was going to vomit from all the screaming and the stench of blood that hung heavy in the air.

            “Find the hatch.”

            I looked just in time to watch Dwight dart from our hiding place, yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs, waving his arms for her attention. The woman audibly growled, turning from her dead prey to see the boy running towards the lit area of the map.

            The curious thing… I saw her hesitate. She seemed to recognize him, _fondly_ recognize him. She followed after him, and I heard her hum resume, even as I watched her back grow farther away, barely glimpsing something beneath the veil of her mask.

            I need to get closer.

            I waited until it was only her hum that filled my ears before setting off behind them, keeping to the trees and crouching from shadow to shadow. I could barely hear what Dwight was screaming, “Anna, stop, its me! Anna! Man, I knew we should’ve established a safety word! _Anna_!” He dodged left, dodged right, almost tripped over his own feet when he ducked behind a pallet and narrowly avoided the iridescent edge of her hatchets. I could only see two more on her belt from my angle, so she had two more shots at him.

            Dwight grunted harshly as he slammed the pallet down hard on her, knocking the breath out of her and almost dislodging her mask. It’s in her retaliation to getting stunned did I see the vial that jutted forth from a mass of blight that corrupted her shoulder, making it ooze and drip much like her mask did. Someone did this to her. Someone who knew of our plan told the Entity, and It in turn gave them the power to do this. I felt sick to my stomach that the Entity would be so cruel to Its own killers, but I had to remind myself that the Entity felt no pity, only hunger. If It had to correct Its servants, then It would.

            However, those who knew of my plan against the Entity were all in on it… unless one of them is playing for both sides.

            I got as close as I could to them without being spotted, watching her head tilt from side to side, watching Dwight’s movements. She had stopped trying to throw the hatchets at him, but was instead shadowing his movements, trying to get around the rocks and the pallet that blocked her path. The boy was insistent, “Anna, please, its _me_ , Dwight! Please, you have to stop!” Her hand went for one of the hatchets, and in a bold move, Dwight rushed across the rotting wooden pallet to grab at her hand, squeezing it before she could even try to aim it at him.

            But that brought him in range of her axe. I swallowed hard and faced the wall, away from them, waiting for the sickening crunch of steel biting into bone, waiting to hear the screams of demise from Dwight. I waited, and waited, but they never came.

            Turning back around, I wasn’t sure if I could trust my own eyes. She was halted, staring down into Dwight’s face, one hand on a hatchet, the other slowly loosening on her axe. They were both quiet, her hum dim as though she had lost the will to sing it, her voice hoarse with some foreign emotion. I saw her lips move, form a few words, but I couldn’t make out what. Something good, maybe, for the smallest smile graced Dwight’s lips.

            But it was over so quick. She screamed as though it hurt, throwing Dwight to the ground and burying her axe deep in his chest. She panted hoarsely, beating him over and over again, screaming and howling Russian curses at the sky. The pus poured out of her, glowing brightly, splashing over Dwight’s body and painting him with the strange solution. I could only guess that the Entity had tightened Its reign on her.

            With only a single generator done, and my entire team dead, there was only one option left.

            “This way,” I whispered to myself, keeping to the shadows. I had to evade her as long as I could, try to keep her off my tail. She hadn’t moved just yet, kneeling over his body, a loose grip on the handle of the axe. I had time, I could make a break for it-

            A hatchet whizzed just in front of my face. I whimpered, taking a few steps back, then turned for the other direction. Another hatchet warned me otherwise, forcing me to stay put behind my tree. I couldn’t stay, but she was now glaring in my direction, slowly rising to her feet with her axe in hand.

            “Anna, please,” I couldn’t help but plead. I knew I was done for, all hope draining from me as I sat in that spot, waiting for the demise that came with a chilling hum and cold steel. “Anna, please don’t do this.”

            Her fingers found my hair. She made a fist with her hand and dragged me from my shadow, pulling me into the light of the moon, past Dwight’s bloodied, mangled body, past the gnarled corpses of trees that never reached full height, until she threw me against the thick roots of the center tree. Her hand reached for a hatchet, but her belt was empty from blocking off my paths of escape. All she had was her axe and the corrupt mixture that powered her.

            “Who did this to you?” I had never thought to try to ask. We had pleaded for her to stop, to not do it, to follow the plan. But at this point, it was futile to escape the fate laid out for me. I would have to take the death that waited to take me.

            Her head tilted to one side, then the other. She padded closer, lowered herself into a prowling walk, until she was nose to nose with me. I could smell the stench of the pus, its infection putrid and infectious. But behind the chipped mask, I saw wet eyes and tear-stained cheeks, agonized by the vial that was buried in her shoulder. “Listen well,” She whispered. “Find the spies.”

            I couldn’t ask anymore than that. I knew better than that. Her axe came up behind her head, and as it split open my skull, my vision cut to black.

*-*-*

            Spies. There was more than one?

            I sat in the clearing, nursing a splitting headache with my back against one of the bordering trees. In this little spot, there was enough shadow to alleviate some of the pain caused by visual brightness. Dwight and the others had made it back already, and looked haunted by our round. But this new information, that there was more than one spy, who the hell was I supposed to tell?

            I couldn’t trust anyone. No one in the clearing, not those who agreed to the plan nor anyone who didn’t. I could trust Evan, but to leave the clearing after that mess of a Trial… the woods, nor the Estate, felt safe.

            I ran through the list of names in my head, again, for what must have been the sixth time since coming back. Nea was the obvious choice to peg as a spy, but she didn’t know about the plan, nor did anyone like her enough to tell her about it. Feng Min seemed a likely candidate, too, but considering the other survivors had gone behind her back to join me meant that she didn’t know the plan either. Detective Tapp didn’t seem like the type to betray his team like that, and neither did Meg. No one in the survivor ranks fit the bill of a spy, let alone there be two of them.

            Someone had to have been watching the Trials from afar, from somewhere safe where no one could see them. They had to be in cahoots with the Entity, in some kind of close relationship that It could shelter them from all eyes, killer and survivor alike, and keep them far away from the killer so that they can watch safely. But _who_?

            “Hey, Vee?” A voice brought me back from my thoughts, refocusing my attention to the approach of Quentin. He knelt slowly, letting his weight settle on the ground before offering me a wooden bowl. “What’s eating you?”

            “Quentin… something was wrong.” I took the bowl and held it, inspecting the contents of the soup inside. My stomach was still churning too much to eat, so I opted to just hold it for its warmth. “The plan, it… We couldn’t do it this time. It knows.” Something dripped into my soup, having rolled off my cheek. I rubbed at my eye with the heel of my palm and spoke through quivering lips, “She… It did something to her. It poisoned her, Q. She was covered in pus, and she was hurting so bad. She was crying, I never thought I’d see her cry.”

            Quentin was quiet, watching me snivel like a child. There wasn’t much he could do to comfort me, and he knew that. We knew the plan was working, and now the rug had been snatched out from under us, tossing us into turmoil. The plan could still work, but we had to be incredibly careful if we were to get away from the Huntress. But it was just one killer, right? Just her.

            But who could’ve gotten close enough to shove that syringe into her?

            “Vee, don’t hurt yourself dwelling too much on it.” Quentin’s hand gently shook my knee, pulling me back before my thoughts could take me away again. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe this was a one-time thing? And we can always hope it’s just her.” A half smile graced his face for a moment. “We can always edit the plan. Do a few generators before hopping the wall, try to confuse the Entity into thinking we’re playing Its game. Maybe take in a key every now and then, so we get out through the hatch? There are ways to do it other than jumping that wall.”

            He had a point. I raised the bowl to my lips, taking a tentative sip of the plant-heavy stew Claudette was always making. “We’ll try that, then. We can check and see what we have to attach to the key rings, too. If we have any blood ambers, we should try to take those in so we can check for identity before taking our course of action.” This was fine. We could manage a blighted killer. “But we need to help her.”

            “We do.” Dwight approached slowly, grimacing as he sat down heavily with his back to the fire. “We have to help her. That wasn’t the Anna I know.” The boy had some weird relationship going on with the Amazonian Russian, but I wasn’t one to judge. “Vanessa, I saw you tailing us in the trees. I told you to find the hatch…”

            “I saw something while she was chasing you,” I turned more towards him, setting my bowl to the side. I pressed my finger into the dirt, making lines and shapes until the image of a syringe with a tag was etched clearly. “It looked like this was in her shoulder. I think this is what did it.”

            “That little syringe made her rabid?” Dwight frowned, inspecting the drawing. “I’ve never seen this thing before. We could ask Benedict if he’s ever seen something like this.”

            Benedict.

            Benedict fucking Baker.

            “You tell him _nothing_.” I hissed, swiping the dirt to clear the drawing. “I guarantee you he’s what’s caused this mess. Does he work alone? Surely he doesn’t do _everything_ by himself?” My heart had begun to thud hard in my chest. The missing piece was so close. If I was right, if I was thinking right, then it had to be him and whoever it was that worked alongside him.

            “He’s got Vigo who works with him, don’t know much about him.” Quentin murmured, watching me carefully. “Vee, what’s going on?”

            _The spies were Benedict and Vigo._

            It made perfect sense. They were never seen, never heard from, only made appearances when the Entity sucked in someone new. And now that something was going wrong in the Realm, the Entity was tasking them with fixing it. Vigo had a shroud that he created that would place survivors as far from the killer as possible at the start of a Trial, and it could easily be used by him to do that for both survivors and the killer.

            And both of them had created the hatch. Of course they would know who would rocket through it and how often.

            “We stick to the plan,” I murmured, looking out to the shadowed woods, inspecting the trees and branches. “We do the Trials as we’ve always done. There’s no escape.” I was picking my words carefully. I thought I saw a pair of eyes out there, shimmering with suspicion, but just as quickly as I blinked, they were gone. No place was safe to talk now, at least not of the plan.

            “Okay, Vee.” Quentin looked now too, seeming to get what I was suspicious of. “We’re running low on a couple of items. Do you have any shiny coins you could toss in next Trial?” He was pulling the conversation back to something normal, something they would expect. Dwight caught on and left us to it, going to the fire to tally who was here and who wasn’t.

            I just hoped that the Huntress was the only killer affected.

*-*-*

            I was wrong. I was so wrong.

            Claudette’s team came back practically in pieces, suffering from sharpened chainsaw blades wielded by a blighted Hillbilly. Nea came back from her Trial without the others, but not from escaping. She had died first at the hands of a blighted Herman, her temples still singed from the surge of electricity he had poured into her brain. But the worst news was that there were two other killers, also blighted, but we did not know who yet. Herman had tried to warn Jane, said something about the two others, before being forced to kill her as well.

            Two other blighted killers on top of Herman, Anna, and Max. Five blighted killers total, and they were the only killers being sent into Trials. It was only a matter of time before we learned the identities of the others, and the suspense was setting everyone on edge. Even Bill, who was usually the quiet one of the bunch, seemed to be extra cautious of the woods beyond.

            At last, Feng Min and her group of Ash, Kate, and Jake came back, looking bloodied and beaten. They were dropped from the sky in a disgruntled heap, one on top of the other, with no respect for who landed on who or how. Feng Min managed to pull herself free from underneath Jake, a harsh frown on her face as she first glared at her team, then the sky, and then me. I knew what she was thinking, that this was my fault, but she didn’t voice it. Instead, she went off in search of the stockpile, wanting to scavenge some gauze rolls for herself and the others.

            I stepped towards the rest of the heap and managed to pull them apart, one by one, until each sat upright with a grim look on their face. Kate, the little songbird, looked more caged than I had ever seen her. “The Entity took the Wraith, too.” She whispered, not looking at me. “Do you think the Blight will spread?”

            “For our sakes, I hope not.” I mumbled, pulling off my paint smattered hoodie, and did away with it for good; we were too low on supplies. I tore it into strips and gave each of them a few strips to tie their wounds with. Now sitting in the open air with just my t-shirt, I could feel the chill in the air, just how desolate the realm really was. How David managed it without a shirt on at all was beyond my knowledge. “But we know who four of them are. Once we know who the fifth is, we can work out another plan.”

            “Another one?” Jake muttered, winding a strip of cloth tight around his leg. “And what’s it gonna be this time, cure them? We don’t even know what’s poisoned them.”

            “I have an idea. But I can’t say it here.” I gestured to the fire, to the edge of the woods, and finally cast a leery look over my shoulder at Feng, who sat alone with only a bandage roll for company. “I’ll tell whoever I’m with next Trial. I have reason to believe that the Entity has more ears than we think… and I want to be sure I tell the people I can trust.” The trio nodded their affirmation; they knew who was safe and who wasn’t.

            Before long, it was time. I felt the call like a dreaded instinct, forcing my stomach to plummet and my skin to chill. I regretted tearing up my hoodie, but it served a better purpose than keeping just myself warm. Claudette silently passed me a medical kit, briefly informing me of the emergency anti-hemorrhagic syringe that was inside, before she grabbed a toolbox for herself. I was about to reach into the offerings pile for a cookbook when the world tilted, spinning around and around until all the colors blurred and became one.

            I shut my eyes, knowing the Entity was only trying to disorient me. If I shut my eyes, It couldn’t faze me. I felt the air drop in temperature, heard the whisper of wind through dying trees and broken glass. When I opened my eyes, I saw a beautiful cathedral left in shambles, its stained glass vibrant though broken. Beyond it, I could just barely make out carnival lights and a lone caravan. I had never been to this place before, but I had heard of Father Campbell’s Cathedral. Now to find the generators, and our predator.

            The interior of the cathedral was much worse off than the exterior. Wooden beams had fallen to the cracked stone floor. Curtains hung frayed and moth-eaten in the wind or lay in musty heaps over boxes and crates. A lone chandelier hovered high above, its candles long extinguished and the once vibrant brass now tarnished into a muddy orange color. This place held a decrepit beauty to it, one of vibrance that this place had before its collapse. Now it lie in ruin, a sad fate for such a wondrous structure.

            On the upper level, a generator sat with its gears already turning. Jake had been sucked into the Trial, so soon after his last one with the Wraith. He gave me a small nod, prompting me to approach, before I heard an all too familiar sound.

            The snap of a bear trap could be heard in the distance, and with it, the shriek of caught prey.

            Claudette’s shriek.

            My blood felt like ice, fighting the rational thought that I knew who the last blighted killer was. I knew, and I didn’t want to believe it. My runaway mind meant my fingers weren’t careful, and the wires slipped from my grasp. Jake quickly reached past me and the whole machine buckled without so much as a sound, resuming its rumbling purr. I whispered a quick apology, but I couldn’t keep working. I turned away from the machine, but not before my heart began pounding in my ears.

            Closer. He was getting closer.

            _Too close_.

            I felt the hair on the back of my neck raise, a chill running down my spine. I heard Jake take off through the broken stained glass, but I was rooted to the spot. The only thing I could will my body to do was turn, slowly, ever so slowly, towards what I knew waited for me.

            It was him.


	25. Chapter 25

            Evan was the last blighted killer.

            I could barely utter his name before he was reaching for me, his eyes glowing coals behind his pus-soaked mask.

            No, this wasn’t Evan, at least not the Evan that I knew.

            I took a few steps back, trying to keep a sizable distance between us, aching that I had to put any space between us at all. I glanced back, trying to judge the distance between me and escape, trying to at least keep Evan in my peripheral, just in case the man suddenly made a fast-paced break for me. But instead, he paused, staring hard at me, lowering the glowing weapon that he clenched hard in his right hand, before taking another heavy step towards me. His breath rasped against his bark mask, and I thought I heard him say “Vee,” but it was cut short by a gagging cough.

            Then something snapped inside him. That ferocious need to kill was back, proven by the strong red glow that emanated from the eyeholes of his mask, making it look like I stood in a pool of blood already. He growled low in his throat, predatory, hungry. I barely had enough time to turn for the escape route when he lunged forward with a speed I never knew he had.

            I leapt out the window as quickly as I could, stumbling as I hit the hard ground before taking off towards a cluster of brick walls. I had to outrun him as long as I could for the others to get some generators going, or at least started, and then I could try to escape him or maybe try to see how I can help him. I chanced a glance over my shoulder, spotting where he was behind me.

            _Too close_.

            His hand closed around my neck, yanking me back through a window I was about to vault through. I couldn’t help but yelp at the pressure around my throat, pushing against my windpipe and making it harder to breathe. I expected to be thrown to the ground, fileted, beaten against the wall, I didn’t know what to do against him when he was in this state. I pushed against his shoulder, against the multitude of metal spikes that had been forced into his torso on top of the few he already had, kicked at his stomach, did my best to try to wriggle free from him. This was not the way I wanted to be held by him, and I would be damned if I didn’t try to break out of it.

            I couldn’t see where we were going, only where we had been. I saw boxes and crates, the bases of metal hooks, thick patches of grass and traps haphazardly set. He wasn’t hooking me? My resolve to wiggle weakened a little, unsure of what he was going to do with me. Was he looking for a good spot to kill me? Take me to a further hook? Or was he really going to let me go? I tried to wiggle again, slamming my fist down on his broad shoulders, narrowly missing the glass cylinder filled with glowing serum that jutted from his flesh.

            The serum! My hands scrabbled for the glass, but too soon was I ripped away from his shoulder and slammed into a wall. His hand was tight around my throat, his weight pushed against my body and pinning me uncomfortably against the stone-cold bricks of the border. I gasped hoarsely, kicking against him, whining at the sheer stoniness of his muscles and the stench of the pus that soaked his skin. I felt his breath billow against my face, smelled the infection and vile blight that burned through his veins, and I had to fight a cough myself against the attack on my senses.

            “Don’t.” I heard him, faintly, spoken with a wet cough. Don’t? Don’t what? I narrowed my eyes, my fingers gripping tightly at his wrists, but I didn’t keep up my kicking. “After. Hide.”

            _Hide!_

He dropped me, and I was gone, taking off to the far end of the map as fast as my feet could carry me. He was letting me go, but for how long? I had to hide, he said, until “after.” But after what? The Trial? I wasn’t sure if I could survive that long against him in such a feral state as this. After seeing what it had done to the Huntress, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be on the receiving end of that.

            I ducked into one of the red striped tents, catching my breath as I waited for my heartbeat to steady itself. Just live until the end. That’s all I had to do. Whether I do generators or not, I had to live, and I had to stay.

            “Vee!” I heard Quentin before I saw him. He rounded the opening of the tent and crouched low, looking beyond it for a moment to check the surroundings before returning his worried stare to me, “Is it really him? Trapper?” When I nodded my affirmation, he groaned and pushed his beanie off his head with a rough growl, “It would be him. It fucking would. Fuck. _Fuck._ ” He threw the article into the dust, barely managing to keep his voice low enough to avoid being heard. “What the fuck do we do?”

            “He said a few words to me. ‘After. Hide.’” I retrieved the beanie and dusted it off, squeezing it tightly in my hands. “Then he let me go… I think he wants me to hide until after the Trial.” Even though it seemed like he didn’t want to hunt me down in the first place, I could still feel the bloodlust in his fingertips. His instincts were showing through, unrestrained by the blight, and it was terrifying to realize just how powerful he really was. “I don’t think he’s in full control, but he’s fighting it. So, we have to fight, too.”

            “Do the generators, then?” Claudette popped up on the other side of the tent, crouched against a box that sat on the side of the tent opening. She looked pale, nervous, almost terrified of the predicament we found ourselves in. “Or should we scale the wall?”

            “Scaling the wall would be faster, but it runs the risk of the Entity doling out a harsher punishment.” I muttered, rubbing my temples to get the gears in my head turning. “We should do the Trial as normal. Search the chests, try to use what you find. We need to clear totems if we can, in case the Entity has something planned for us later on. Some of us may die… and I’m really sorry about that.”

            “We’ve died before, what’s one more death?” Quentin muttered, holding his hand out for his beanie. “Vee, you’re the only one who’s been able to get close to the killers, closer than any of us, without dying. If anyone can get us out of this mess, or at least into some kind of better situation… it’s you.”

            I fought a blush that crept into my cheeks, avoiding his warm gaze. “Thanks… I really appreciate hearing that.” I squeezed my medical kit tightly, before passing it to Quentin with his beanie. “You’ll need this more than I will. Stay safe, let’s try to get the generators done and get out… I’m sure we’re being watched.”

            The sound of a generator lighting up in the distance alerted us to our fourth team member’s location. Jake had finished the chapel generator, spurring the candles to relight themselves and give us a glimpse of its former glory. One generator done, only four to go. I sent Claudette and Quentin off to find another generator while I set off to find one myself, settling on one behind the caravan guarded by a three-eyed rotting horse.

            Evan must have been fighting hard against the poison in his body. He was placing traps in openly lit areas, losing chases after barely slicing through my teammate’s clothing, and only one generator was left when he finally caught Claudette. But just as he had done with me, she was able to wriggle free just as the last generator powered up.

            We didn’t get to all the totems.

            And something was happening. Something that had never happened before, and something we couldn’t possibly prepare for.

            The ground was shaking, trembling with some underlying power unknown to us. I could feel it even through the lever of the door, coursing down my arm with the surge. The others were running up to me, anxious to get through the door, to leave me behind so I could figure out what was going on. Behind them was Evan, charging with the speed of an angry bull and eyes burning crimson. No sooner had the gates opened did he swing and down Jake in one fell swoop, sending Quentin and Claudette stumbling into the exit and me turning back into the Trial map.

            The sky was pulsing, humming with an orange glow not unlike the pus that plagued Evan. The ground was cracking open in red rivulets and burning with embers. Jake’s screech echoed out from his hook as Evan went back to the door for his next kill. My hope that Quentin and Claudette made it out was dashed when he downed both of them one right after the other, their screams haunting me more than the ominous pressure the map was pushing on me.

            I crept along to Jake, pulled up just enough to get him dislodged from the metal, only sparing a glance to the gate to see what had happened. I could just barely see an array of spikes crisscrossing over each other, fighting for space and height with each other, making it impossible to cross the threshold into the safety of the bordering woodlands. I pulled Jake behind me, leading him towards a sheltered wall to try to patch him up as quickly as I could, whispering that we’ll make it out, that we could make it, but I couldn’t even believe my own words. We were trapped in here with Evan, the very ground was crumbling and burning underneath our feet, and the other two were on their way to be hung up like fresh kill.

            “Vee, get off.” Jake grunted, pushing me away from him just before I could finish patching him up. “We can’t get out of the Trial. Just… let him sacrifice us.” His eyes were cast down at the ground, watching the red cracks expand through the dirt. “As soon as the Entity releases its Blood Warden, you need to get through those gates.”

            “I’m not leaving you all to just die, Jake.” I forcefully applied the last of the healing job, looking past him to see where Evan could be. The sky pulsed harshly, ringing out like a bell. The burning grew worse, the cracks shone with an even brighter crimson color, and I could smell the grass beginning to burn. The grounds grew hazy with smoke, the only lights that of the flames that licked from the deep gashes in the dust. “Jake, wait by the door but not in it. I’m going to try to get closer-”

            “So what, he can kill you too?” Jake grabbed me by the wrists harshly, and for once he made me look him in the eye. They reminded me of charcoal, burning with intensity and knowledge that no one thought he had. It caught me by surprise. “Vanessa, you gotta figure out what’s going on with this blight.”

            “I know, I’m _trying_.” I thought I tasted blood when I chewed my lip in frustration, but I couldn’t dwell on it; Quentin’s cries of pain rung out just as the sky did. The flames were chewing their way through the grass and trees, burning anything it could, sending embers to the sky with an undying thirst for destruction. The Trial was collapsing in on itself, forcing itself to end, forcing the survivors to make a choice; stay and die, or leave if you can. “Jake, please, we have to try. We don’t have much time left.”

            “I’m not going.” Jake spoke definitively, rising to face the cathedral, lit by the flames within its cracked walls. “I’ll distract him as best I can while you get out.” He was gone before I could even attempt to utter any disagreements. I reached after him, only to flinch back as he screamed and hollered at the top of his lungs, crying wolf, bringing as much attention to himself as he could while also making his way away from the gate.

            Evan heard him. He had just dropped Claudette onto a hook when Jake had begun his tirade. I slipped by them both, keeping a careful eye on the two prowling deeper into the Trial grounds, then looked once at the now open door, and then finally at Claudette, who hung close by but not close enough to guarantee we’d both get out. If the roles were reversed, she would come for me. As would Quentin. But he was too far, and I had to get out who I could.

            I burst into a sprint, making my way as fast as I could to Claudette. Her eyes had already begun to gloss over as the Entity’s appendages materialized around her, locking in her despair, feeding off of it to grow even more like a corrupt weed. When I finally reached her, I had to pull her to her feet after lifting her up and off the rusted hook, pleading, “Come on, Claude, we can run, we can make it. Please, you gotta keep running.”

            The clock was ticking. We were running out of time.

            No, we were out of time.

            I heard them all scream behind me. I had just crossed the safety gate when it happened. The sky erupted with a bell-like gong and a roll of thunder. The ground itself exploded, razor sharp tendrils breaking through and ripping Claudette away from me, viciously snatching her up into a tight hold. I saw her eyes widen, her mouth open in a shriek, but she made no sound.

            Her neck was snapped in the next instant.

            I turned away, listening to the crunch of her bones and the sickening piercing of those ravenous talons sinking into flesh. I wanted to block it out, block out the screams, the despair, this immense sense of doom weighing heavy on my person. I was the only one to make it out, and that was only because they sacrificed themselves for me. Their blood was on my hands and on the tiles of the exit gate, soaking into the foundation and dirt that held up the Trial.

            I sunk into the grass outside the gate, my back to the bricks, head in my hands. What would I say when I get back to camp? No, the others would know already. News would spread like wildfire of the Entity’s newest intervention in the Trials. It was starved for blood and would take us by force without Its killers’ help, if need be.

            And it was my fault.

            Heavy footsteps in the gate alerted me to Evan’s presence. I scooted into the shadows, away from him, holding my breath in my chest as he made his way out. I watched his hulking shape appear, past the threshold now, bloody cleaver in an iron grasp. His head swung left, then to the right, his breath heavy against the sheet of bark that masked his features. I could see the pus leaking from his mouth, his eyes, coating his already dirty skin with even more filth.

            “Good job, Evan, very well done.”

            Who was that?

            He stood in the shadows, cloaked in brown grime, the very fabric seemingly crafted by the dust that coated the grounds of the Trials. He tilted his head to one side, inspecting Evan’s ambled approach, keeping his hands shoved in the pockets of his grey slacks. Underneath the cloak, it looked as though he was wearing Herman’s black surgeon jacket, but not as damaged as the maniacal man’s own clothes. The most unsettling thing about this man were his eyes.

            They were dark, coal black with intrigue, and no white showed in his left eye.

            “Are you done with me?” Evan’s garbled words were spoken through a harsh cough.

            The smaller man crept forward from the shadows, glancing left and right as he did before coming to a stop just in front of the ailing killer. “You know that its not my decision whether I’m done with you or not.” A sly smirk turned up the corners of his thin lips, making the wretched man appear sinister, conniving, vile. I wished Evan would sink his blade into the man’s collarbone. “Now come along.”

            I listened to them shuffle away, not daring to peek around from the safety of the brick wall to see just where they were going. If I followed them, I risked getting myself killed.

If I followed them, I would learn more about this shady character and get a step closer to helping Evan and the others.

My life, my death, versus Evan’s relief, Anna’s relief, and the possible freedom of the others.

            I didn’t have to think long on what my decision would be. The woods were calling.

*-*-*

            I paced around the survivor clearing, biting my thumbnail to the quick. Where was Claudette’s team? They should have been back by now, dead or otherwise. Dwight had told me to relax, that as a leader I couldn’t show my nerves. But with the Trials going as they were, with this newfound fluctuation between killer and Entity, I was getting nervous. Even David, rugged and experienced, was having difficulty with the lack of resources in Trials and the stunning strength of the killers that now hunted in their blighted, blood crazed state.

            I knew we were running on borrowed time until the Entity had finally had enough. Whether or not we had hit that limit was yet to be seen, and I wasn’t ready to face it if we had. Vanessa was pushing Its buttons, over and over, goading It into grabbing a new killer, poisoning the old ones, and now something else felt off. Very off.

            “Feng, they’ll be back, just like always.” Dwight’s hand rest carefully on my shoulder, derailing my train of thought so that I stood here in the clearing instead of the recesses of my mind. He gave me a soft look, one that I knew too well. He was doing his best to try to be the leader he should be, and in moments like this, I could just manage to believe in him. I turned into his touch and let my forehead fall onto his shoulder, giving him the cue to keep speaking, “And then we can reconvene with them, hear what they saw, and everything will just keep moving.”

            “Dwight, you say that, but here’s the thing,” I muttered, pulling off a pin from his lapel to inspect the flaking and time-worn engravings. “How long are we going to just ‘keep moving’? We’re running out of resources, but not time. There is no ‘time’ here. We’re moving in place, and eventually, we won’t be moving at all, figuratively or literally. We’re fighting a losing battle.”

            “Which is all the more reason to keep moving.” I turned away from Dwight now, my frustration growing with each word out of his mouth. “Think about it! We’re here, reliving death for some beast that thinks we’re tasty. If we can finally manage to beat it, manage to win a rightful death, then it’ll be over. None of us have anything to go back to, Feng. Death is all that’s left for us.”

            “I won’t let death take me so easily.” The growl came unbidden from my chest, but it was the truth. I’ve died by the hands of these killers, gone against them countless times. I wanted to win against them, wanted some way to get back at them for all of my blood that they spilt. I couldn’t let death have me until I exacted my price on them.

            “Feng!” David called out from the campfire, taking my attention away from Dwight’s mournful look. In his arms, Claudette had materialized, a limp ragdoll coated in blood and dirt with the haze of death still glazing her eyes. Quentin slowly sat up from where he had appeared out of the dirt, coughing and hacking the particles from his throat. Jake sat silently close by, looking gaunt and uncharacteristically small.

            Something happened.

            I rushed to them, dropping to my knees beside David to gently ease Claudette into a sitting position. I rubbed her hands, tried to ignore the odd angle of her head hanging from her neck, the crack of it as the Entity undid what Its monsters had done. “Claudette, what happened in there?” Her eyes slowly slid to my face, but still she did not speak. Shock had shot her system, and she was still working her way back to us.

            “The Entity intervened.” Quentin murmured, pulling his beanie further down on his hair until it almost covered his eyes. “We opened the gates, and the whole world just started to crumble.”

            “What do you mean, ‘crumble’?” I pushed, letting Claudette’s cold hands go.

            “I mean exactly that. Crumble.” The sleep-deprived boy seemed ready to snap, spitting the words at the ground. “The gates opened, the sky started to make this weird bell sound, and cracks opened up in the ground. The grass, the dirt, the trees, it all started to burn. I got hooked, Claudette got hooked, Jake ran the Trapper while Vanessa tried to save at least one of us, but then we ran out of time.”

            “The Entity exploded from the ground and snatched Claudette from Vanessa, just as they were crossing through the gate.” Jake’s voice was soft, his back still turned to us. “I just barely saw it happen before It got me, too.” I saw his hand snake under his scarf to rub at his neck, and a wince scrunched his features for just a moment. “Quentin was lucky to die on the hook.”

            “If you three are here, then where’s Vanessa?” A bubble of rage began to boil deep in my belly. Out of all the people that could have made it out that round, against the Trapper no less, it shouldn’t have been Vanessa. No, Vanessa always made it out unscathed no matter who the killer was. It was getting frustrating, having to deal with the girl’s aftermath. The sudden lack of resources, the Entity trying to pick up the slack, all of it was because of the damned painter.

            “She escaped… She’s probably on her way back.” Lies. I could see right through Quentin’s words. She escaped, but was she on her way back? Considering it was the Trapper, probably not. Even in his sickened state, she would-

            “Feng.” Jake’s voice was low, his eyes piercing me as he looked over his shoulder, “She will be back. I trust her.”

            “As do I.” Quentin’s narrowed gaze was on me too. The two of them knew something, in on whatever thoughts ran amok in Vanessa’s head. It seemed a good portion of the survivors were working on something with the girl, but on what I couldn’t say. “A lot of us do. So I don’t see why you don’t.”

            Why don’t I trust her?

            I squeezed my hands into fists, slowly rising from my knees. “Get some rest, let me know when Claudette comes around.” I wouldn’t answer his question. My reasoning was dumb, and I wasn’t even sure of it. Jealousy? Anger? Something about how she so easily carries herself around the others, around the killers, gets everyone to actually listen to what she has to say. My survivors were torn between following me and following her. I had provided a way to win, to go into Trials and successfully come out through the gates together after powering through generators and running the killers on a reckless romp through pallets and window vaults. But she had this other plan, and the survivors weren’t afraid to lose and die for it, because they were winning in some other way.

            I wanted to win, too.

            My gaze went past the others to look into the trees beyond, watching the shadows move and warp with the Entity’s shimmer. The shadows never used to move like that, never used to hold the Entity’s presence so well. But even so, I knew Vanessa was past those trees, probably getting herself into more shit with the Entity.

            As much as I wanted to leave her to her devices, the temptation to know what she was up to was growing. And if it meant going into the woods, into the killers’ territory, then it better be some damned good plan she’s got.


	26. Chapter 26

            Where were they going? I had been tailing the Trapper and the shrouded man for a while now, keeping well enough behind that they couldn’t detect me. Well, Evan probably knew I was following, but he hadn’t said anything or even looked back to check. Even when I lost sight of the two, there always seemed to be an ample trail of glowing pus dribbled on the grass, reminding me that I was, in fact, on the right path.

            The shelter of the woods was growing thicker, denser, the canopy above us allowing no moonlight to trickle down to us. The velvet shadows followed us, slinking along the ground in pursuit of the pus’s glow, until they, too scattered at the sight of our destination. A decrepit hut, not unlike the shack that could be found on almost every Trial. But it looked worse, made of the bricks that composed the walls of the Trial grounds, crumbling in on itself so that I could barely distinguish the four walls that made it a structure. A hook sat against one of the outer walls, creaking and rusted, aged with disuse, but inside I could hear the purr of a generator, long ago finished and still going. I barely saw through a large gap in the wall a table littered with instruments and other items, but I was too far to really make out what they were.

            The shadowy man led Evan inside and to a wall hidden from my sight.

            My heart was thudding in my chest. I was so close to discovering who this man was and what he had done to the killers. I was so close to danger, so close to getting myself caught. I sunk low to the ground, half crawling my way through the brush to get closer, ignoring the lukewarm feeling of the pus against my palms. My skin prickled at the cold wafting from the building, colder and colder the closer I got. I still hadn’t reached the wall when I could start to see my breath billowing out before me.

            “How did the Trial go?” A voice I recognized as Benedict’s drifted towards me, faint from the distance but still clear. Just a few steps further, I could hear the clang of metal scraping against stone and itself, and the heaviness of Evan sitting on the concrete inside. “I hope it went well?”

            “One of them got out, but the rest were killed.” The man I hadn’t been able to identify yet spoke now. Thinking back, I remember the name Vigo, mentioned as Benedict’s partner. The two worked closely together, so it was only natural to assume that this man was Vigo. “One on the hook, two by the Entity’s Endgame.”

            “So, It finally implemented that strategy?” A few glass vials clinked together, and the gurgle of liquid being poured into the containers was just barely heard. “Were they terrified?”

            “Absolutely.”

            There was quiet for a while, the only sounds that of laboratory equipment, metal, and Evan’s labored breathing. He must have situated himself against the wall that I couldn’t see. I slid across the dirt until my shoulder was pressed to the bricks of the outer wall, finally able to see inside the structure without actually giving away my location via the gap in the wall. I saw the two men with their backs to me, working at a long table with an assortment of tubes, vials, beakers and candles, spread out beyond papers and scrolls filled with scribbles. They spoke in low volumes, pointing to different calculations in the scrolls, casting their eyes every now and then to the far wall then back down.

            I followed their gaze. Evan sat against the wall, panting, his cleaver taken from him and his wrists chained to the wall. Even immobilized, he looked powerful, his biceps strained from pulling idly against his restraints, his head bowed down, his barrel chest heaving with each breath he forced himself to take. Pus still leaked from his mask, but not as much as there had been in the Trial, and his resolve and strength did seem weaker from the bloodthirsty monster he had been.

            The vial that had held the serum was sitting on the table now, empty. That was a long needle that jutted from the end of that thing.

            I inhaled a slow, shaky breath. They were forcing that needle into him, forcing their drugs into his system, making him into something he wasn’t. They could just as easily do it to anyone else. Even the survivors. Even me. My hand clasped around the crook of my elbow in reflex, my grip shaky as I battled through the thoughts in my head, trying to keep a focus on what I needed to do. What could I do? I had to free Evan, destroy the source of the serum and the equipment for making it. How could I do that?

            “So Evan was still able to fight off most of the serum’s effects, yes?” Benedict’s voice pulled me back to reality, just as the two men began to move around the table towards their imprisoned killer. “We’ll have to amp up the amount of pustula petals we use, then. Make it a four-to-one ratio instead of the three-to-one that seems to work for everyone else.”

            “We don’t want to overload his system, it will make him useless rather than get the results we want.” Vigo countered, swirling a flask filled with some other disgusting liquid, just as bright as the pus but thicker, darker, and presumably more potent. “How about we up the pustula to three and a half? We’ll test that out, and if it works, we’ll stick with that. The Entity mentioned that It couldn’t keep up the plants for long.”

            They only have a limited amount of serum. I took a deep breath and let it out in slow relief, almost missing the next words that came out of Benedict’s mouth, “The Trapper is an old killer. He’s been hardened by the Entity’s ways. We’ll need an especially potent mix for him, so four-to-one should be fine.” I peeked inside again, just as they turned back towards the table. I had to duck fast to avoid being seen, covering my mouth with my hand to stifle my surprised gasp. There was quiet inside, and I was worried I had been caught, until I heard the glasses clinking again. “Pass me the syringe.”

            I waited anxiously with my back to the bricks, listening to the liquids gurgle and bubble, be poured from container to container, passed from one gloved hand to the next. The chill of the bricks only added to the tremors of my body, both from nerves and from the cold. I slowly tilted my chin up, over, trying to peer through the gap again to see what they were doing-

            A hand closed around my throat, yanking me through the opening and throwing me onto the icy cold ground with little respect for my physical well-being. “Well well, if it isn’t the tramp. What’re you doing here, lost?” Benedict knelt over me, grabbing a fistful of my hair to yank my head back, forcing me to look into the shadowed face of the maniacal man. “Or are you just that fucking nosy? First, you steal my journal. Then, you make your own with the help of, what’s his name, Danny? And to top it off, you and your mix have the _gall_ to meet up and devise this plan of yours, all to get some upper hand you could never have.” His eyes were burning with malice, his nose scrunched with the sneer that marred his face. “How’d that work out for you?”

            “Just fine, actually, until you stuck your big nose in.” I spat back, smacking away his fist to sit myself up. “I’m not resorting to poison to win, now, am I?” I snuck a glance at Evan, who’s head was bowed low still, unmoving. “Just look what you’ve done! They’re not themselves, they can’t think, they’re sick-!”

            “But they’re stronger.” It was Vigo’s turn to speak now, leaning against the table laden with equipment. He turned the serum-filled syringe in his hand, inspecting the paper tag that hung off the back of it, then held it point-up. “This serum we’ve made, injected them with, it’s brought out all the strength and power that the Entity blessed unto them. Power that they’d pushed away, refrained from using, just to keep you lot… hm, is safer the word?” He glanced once at Benedict, then shrugged and stepped towards Evan. “Now they can remember their strength. Revel in it, use it. Finally put your flock in its place.”

            “And what makes you think we’ll stop?” I clenched my hands into tight fists, moving to stand up now. “I can’t say for the others, but I will not stop. I won’t stop until we’re out of this hell. What kind of life is this, just dying over and over again without fail, without mercy? You wouldn’t understand!”

            “Oh, we do understand. Completely.” Benedict shoved me back down onto my ass, forcing me to slide back against the table so everything on top rattled. I winced as the edge of the table smacked into the back of my skull, stars dazzling my vision for a moment before I could really focus on the men again. “Who do you think were the first to be killed on this plane?”

            “If you’ve suffered as we do, then why would you want to make it worse?” My words felt slurred from the mild pain in my skull. I tried to move again, but the world spun just enough to keep me in place. I felt sick to my stomach, spinning in an internal cyclone of thoughts and sensations. “I don’t understand why you would do this.”

            “Simple, really. The Entity keeps us safe, provides us what we need, what we want, and all we have to do is as It says.” My chin was lifted up, my eyes forced to meet his again. “And It says that you lot need to be punished, killers and survivors alike. You want fairness? You want killers and survivors to get along, both sides to be happy? You pushed yourselves further from your goal trying to get there. How’s it feel, to be responsible for this?”

            My blood ran cold. My fault. It was my fault, wasn’t it? The killers being infected, the resources running short, the Endgame collapse. All of it because I took a stand against a deity that hates to be disrespected. I only wanted for the killers and survivors to be treated more fairly, like the humans we all were, allowed to stand on equal ground and mingle with each other without fear. I did not want to be the sheep that I had been chosen to be.

            “Ness,” Evan’s voice caught me off guard. I tried to look to him, but Benedict wrenched my chin to one side, not allowing me to see him. I heard Evan groan shortly after, the chains rattling on the wall as he made an attempt to move, to get to me. “Ness, it’s not your fault. It’s not.”

            “Hush.” I heard a thudding noise, of a boot hitting something heavy. I heard Evan grimace, shuffle his legs around again, then tug a bit harsher on his restraints, as though he were trying to lean in one direction, be it away from the wall or away from Vigo.

            “It’s not your fault.” Evan repeated, firmly this time. “Don’t fucking listen to them.”

            “Are we done with the chatter? We’ve got work to be done.” Vigo’s impatience was met with Evan’s sudden roar of pain, the chains on the wall clattering and shaking with his struggle. “Let’s see if this serum works any better than the last. As for you, Vanessa… Why don’t we see how it works on you?”

            I pulled my chin away from Ben’s grasp, only to see nothing but glowing ooze and pus. Evan was coated in it, the refilled vial jutting out from his shoulder, the victim of its contents straining to get out and remove the item of its affliction. His overalls were soaked through, the metal instruments in his shoulder multiplying in sharp curves, scattering down his right arm towards his dominant hand. His skin cracked open with fresh blood and pus along the welts that already wounded him, only adding to his agony, and mine. I couldn’t stand to watch this. I wanted to go to him, wanted to stop his pain, I wanted to try something to get that thing out of his shoulder, but the second I moved I knew we would be in for worse.

            “Evan…” I whispered his name through a lump in my throat. It was all I could do. I couldn’t tear my gaze away, couldn’t do anything more than mutter his name, helpless as I watched his mind get muddied with the toxins, his muscles bulge and spasm with the pain, his eyes cross and go red with the rage induced by the chemical in his system. The man before me was more monster than man, growing more dangerous by the second, more hostile.

            I spent so much time watching Evan fall into madness that I didn’t take the time to watch what Vigo and Benedict were doing. It was too late by the time I realized it. Vigo held me by the shoulders, kept me in place just as I tried to lurch away from them, while Benedict produced another syringe, just as large and as intimidating as the one that plagued Evan. I kicked, I screamed, I fought as best I could against them, but two full-grown men against one feeble, nightmare-ridden girl was a no-contest situation. I was pushed against the concrete, face down, one arm yanked uncomfortably behind my back.

            I felt it. Cold, hot, all at once, racing through my veins, lighting them up with that vibrant, putrid glow. It contaminated me, turned my blood, my stomach acid, my mucus, all of it into that sickly substance. I felt it pour from my skin, my sweat, my nostrils, everything both glowing and bloody all at once. I couldn’t see past the haze of pus, couldn’t breathe; I was choking on it. The needle was too deep in my arm, the serum fully injected now to my person. I gagged, coughed, vomited, my body rejecting this new solution coursing through every cell that made me. Even my ears were dulled, hot and cold, leaking with the substance that the Entity had concocted.

            I didn’t hear them leave. I didn’t hear the brick wall break apart with Evan’s inhuman strength. I barely registered the small body that was lifting me up and carting me off to the woods, back through the shadows, away from that vile, makeshift laboratory.

            Everything hurt, everything felt wrong. I pushed against my captor, but they held on tightly. I only barely heard the roar that came from behind us, screeched up at the moon that was always there. Evan’s voice, I knew it was Evan’s. He was hurting, and there was nothing I could do to help him.

            “Vee, stop moving,” The voice that carried me grunted when I shifted yet again in their grip. “Or I’m dropping you and Evan can deal with your ass.” Wait… Feng? “Course… he’s gone, isn’t he?”

            What the hell was she doing out here? I tried to rub my eyes with my hands, get rid of the pus that coated and hardened on my eyelids, but that only pushed the substance further into my corneas. It stung to the point of tears, which only worsened the matter and reminded me of the blindness I was faced with, but I would just have to deal with it. “What’re you-”

            “Doing out here? Saving you, apparently.” I felt my body be jostled slightly, moved so my feet dusted the ground, at first unsteady until I felt a little more stable on my own legs. “Can you walk? You’re a bit heavy.”

            “I can’t see, but I can walk… Thank you.” I say that… but then my knees buckle and I’m grounded again. Another wave of unsettling heat and ice course through me, forcing more of the substance out through my mouth and nose. I coughed and hacked, spitting what I could out, taking note of the gentle hand on my back. This was odd behavior from Feng, and I almost wanted to question why she was being so kind to me, but I couldn’t manage to form words in my current state. I would have to ask later, when I wasn’t throwing up whatever this stuff was.

            I wish we could have stayed in that spot longer, but we needed to move. I could feel the danger breathing down my neck, even though Evan was paroling a good distance behind us now. Feng helped me back to my feet, guided me along through the trees and the woods, back to where I assume she came from. “Hey… Feng?” I turned my head towards her, waited for her to grunt in question, before I summoned up the words between bile and spittle, “How did you find me?”

            “Well, your team came back without you.” Her voice started in a huff, “They all said you escaped, said you were on your way back. They all trust you, y’know. The others. I went out to look for you, and when I got to your Trial, I saw the trail of pus and you taking off after it.” I heard her chuckle quietly, readjust her hold on my arm and move me around some obstacle in our path. “So of course, I followed you. Heard everything they said in that place, too.”

            “I’m sorry,” it was all I could think to say. An apology for keeping my plan a secret from her, an apology for not doing more for my fellows, empty words for a cacophony of things I had done wrong ever since my landing in this place. I couldn’t even spill the tears I had welled up. “Feng… I’m so sorry.”

            “Let’s get you back to camp. We can talk later.” Feng’s voice was gentle, her hand coaxing me on. I could barely hear the murmur and chatter of the others in the distance, though they were probably closer since I couldn’t hear well. “We’ll get you cleaned up, see if we can find you a change of fresh clothes.”

            “We have more clothes?” The prospect of getting out of these sweaty, nasty, pus-soaked clothes offered me some relief. To think, I could get into new clothes, rest and recoup from this adventure… Who knew I would be so happy to get clean clothes, something I used to take for granted in the other world?

*-*-*

            I helped her clean up, change her clothes, then finally settle down on a bed roll that she had brought back from Mount Ormond. Vanessa had looked absolutely awful when I finally intervened, worse even than the killers that the serum had been meant for. Soaked from head to toe in that vile ooze, pouring from her mouth, her nose, her ears, and tinting her corneas an ugly orange color as it threatened to bleed out from her eyelids, too. Benedict and Vigo had left her for dead in that dilapidated structure, left her to face the rage of Evan who would not have been able to stop himself from ripping her apart. It would have been a no-win situation, for her or for him.

            Now that I could sit and digest everything I had heard, everything I had seen, while watching over Vanessa to be sure she rests and the serum goes through her system without too many ill side effects, I found myself wondering what exactly had we gotten ourselves into. The first survivors, people I knew and all of us had trusted, had been the ones to out Vanessa’s plans to the Entity. They had been the ones to determine the punishment and carry it out. Even after they had been found out, they then turned on the now-survivors, poisoned Vanessa with the stuff they had made for beings four times her strength.

            I chewed on my lip, pressed my knuckles to my forehead, pressing hard to ward off the growing headache. There was just so much that I didn’t know, so much that happened right under my nose. I hadn’t realized just how much the others had come to not trust me with small things, and now there was a very big thing that we all needed to be in on, understand, and move forward with. We may not have all been together when this plan was made, but God damn it, we need to be together now.

            “How is she?” A voice pulled me from my thoughts, soft, concerned. I raised my head just enough to meet eyes with Dwight, who shuffled his feet sheepishly. When I narrowed my eyes at him, casting one cautious glance at the sleeping girl before locking eyes with him again, he finally relented. “So you know now… right?” When I failed to answer, he just pressed on anyway, “Look, we weren’t sure if you’d agree to it, and what you don’t know can’t-”

            “Don’t finish that statement, because you know for a God damn fact that’s not true.” I forced the words through grit teeth, my thumbs pressing in on either side of the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t know what she was doing, and now we’re _all_ paying for it, Dwight. Every single one of us.” It only took me giving him a single, long stare for him to understand the gravity of that little plan that Vanessa created, and just what it’s done for everyone. “How am I supposed to help you lead our little ragtag group of misfits if my partner isn’t telling me vital information? And continuing on that note, how many of us _do_ know? Because it seems to me you’ve got a whole operation going on.”

            “Feng…” Dwight was slow in his approach, kneeling just a few feet from me. His mouth worked slowly, working to pick through his words carefully, not sure which ones he should use to make his point. It was a few moments before he finally felt confident enough in his word choice, “It’s not that we don’t want your leadership. We do! But… you can be a little stubborn when it comes to any ideas that aren’t in line with yours.” At this I raised a brow, incredulous at his brazen statement, but he hurried to continue, “But now that you know, maybe you can help us. Her idea was great, but-”

            “Now there are consequences we’re not sure how to deal with.” I finished for him, letting my hands drop to my lap again. “I know. I saw.” Vanessa shuffled on her bedroll, rolling to cough and spit out another bout of bile. “They used it on her, too.” Dwight didn’t need to ask; he already knew who I meant. “Once it works through her system, I’m going to have a chat with her.”

            “Feng-”

            “She’s not in trouble.” I held a hand up to quell his fears, “Not in the least. I want to help, but I want to know the terms and maybe suggest a few things myself. I’m done with the secrecy in this clearing, do you understand?”

            “Yeah.” Dwight mumbled, rubbing his palms on his pant legs.

            “Good.”

            Maybe now things would start changing. We didn’t have to be so hostile towards each other. This secrecy that Vanessa kept had made it hard on some of the others, and on me. But now that the secret was out, now that everyone knew what had been going on and what the Entity had done about it, all there was left to do was get everyone on the same page and deal with the problem head on. No more secrets, no more trying to deal with it all by ourselves. The Entity puts us in teams for a reason, so as a team we’ll take It down.


	27. Chapter 27

            She wasn’t getting better.

            Several Trials had passed since Vanessa had been brought back in a heap of pus and bile. I had lost count when I came back from a round against a delirious Trapper to still find her in that same spot on the now soiled bed roll. The others had been getting increasingly worried; Quentin spent his free time sitting near her, watching her for signs of improvement, consciousness, something to let him know of her recovery. Claudette had tried a few different poultices and remedies, but nothing that she had tried worked. Even Nea, who I knew to be at odds with her, seemed off-put by the lack of someone to taunt.

            There wasn’t much time to spend worrying. Another Trial was calling us in. I didn’t have any choice but to go.

            “Feng, what’re we going to do if she doesn’t recover?” Quentin was heeding the call, too, jogging to catch up to me. I had sped into the woods as soon as the call was made, so I hadn’t even waited to see who my team would be. “What if the Entity takes her and she never comes back?”

            From my pocket, I fetched out a shroud I had picked from the offerings pile on the way out, handing one end of the bound piece of fabric to him. “If the Entity had wanted her gone, It would have done so by now. Its probably either forgotten to heal her or Its making her suffer for whatever reason on the laundry list of things she’s done. What we need to do is figure out how to get that stuff out of her and the others.” Sure, Benedict and Vigo only had a limited supply of whatever serum they injected into those killers, but the affects seemed to last for ages. It wasn’t meant for us survivors, that was clear now. So instead of waiting for the serum to run its course, we needed to figure out how to cure it or stop the injection rate.

            The temperature of the air was dropping. The trees parted ahead of us, tall fir trees that grew sparser and sparser the closer we got to Lery’s Memorial Institute. An involuntary shudder wracked my shoulders, not unnoticed by Quentin, but he didn’t say anything about it. I could remember all the times I had picked one too many wrong windows to jump through on this map, gotten lost in the twists and turns of the maze-like halls to wind up in the grip of whatever killer prowled the grounds. Nea had become a bit of an expert on this map, had even been able to run the killer in circles, but I wasn’t sure if she would be with us this time.

            No sooner had we stepped inside the hospital did I feel the static prickling at my feet. The Doctor was inside, waiting, starving for blood. He was one of the blighted killers, and the transformation had been hideous to him. He had a few too many eyes, his flesh was rotting off his face, his guts were hanging from his belly, and the serum ran through the tubes that would normally channel his electricity. Even his weapon held the vile liquid in a spiked glass cylinder, threatening to poison us like Benedict had to Vanessa. The madness had become especially prominent, crazing his movements into feverish amblings, his eyes to constantly roll and watch the territory for movement, his breath to wheeze and hiss even more than the usual strain he put on the act of respiration.

            Quentin and I shared a look. We’d have to be extra careful with the generators then.

            As we headed for the center of the Trial, the operation room, I made sure to take note of the surroundings. A window vault here, a doorway there, a pallet wedged between a pillar and a wall, and a couple of dull totems all on our way to that center room. If I looked left, I could see a stairwell leading down below the operation room, and there was no need to investigate what could possibly be down there. I shook my head, turned my attention to the generator that sat against a chair meant to restrain patients, and set to work.

            My nerves were getting the better me. I kept glancing over my shoulder, watching, waiting, knowing that at some point that monster of a Doctor would make his way through here after one of my comrades or searching for his next kill. It was maddening, feeling the static prickle and jump up my legs, but never see the man who hosted the charge. He had to be chasing someone close by, right? But if that was the case, I would have heard someone scream by now, so what was going on? Even Quentin, who was working diligently beside me, crossing wires with minimal failures on the ruined generator, had picked up on the oddity of the situation we were presented with, but he didn’t have an answer for me either.

            I left the generator most of the way completed, taking a slow look around before taking careful steps towards one of the branching hallways. If he wasn’t going to find us, then I was going to find him. I didn’t like the prospect of not knowing where he was at all times, and the fact that he seemed to be standing still in some spot was unnerving. It would just be my luck, though, if he was standing from a distance, monitoring, abusing the terror that leaked out of him in static rivulets, making us believe he was further than he was until he was right on top of us, but I just had to be sure that this wasn’t the case.

            My heart began to thud against my ribcage. I was getting closer to the danger now. I took a deep breath in through my nose, let it out slowly, trying to channel a calm spirit as I got closer and closer, my heartbeat speeding up with every step I took towards one of the many doorways. He was in there, I could just barely see his ruddy overcoat, hear his breathing hiss through his exposed teeth. The stench of the pus and rot that emanated off him could be smelled from where I stood carefully pressed to the outside of the doorway.

            But when I looked in… he was just standing there, his eyes fixated on the cracked mirror in front of him. One of his hands extended out to touch the glass, where his face appeared in the distorted reflection, tracing the lines of decay that exposed his teeth and parts of his jawbone, down his throat to the frayed hem of his jacket. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes did. The ones that could focus darkened, forlorn, disgusted with his own image that he’d been forced to have. I had never seen a killer look so absolutely lost before, so appalled by their appearance, what they had become at the hands of someone else… Was this really how it was?

            Too soon, the killer’s attention strayed away from his reflection; there were other matters to attend to now. A generator had blown a fuse somewhere down the hallway, meaning that there was prey to be caught. I let go of the breath I had been holding deep in my chest, blowing it out in a long, light sigh while my panicked heart slowed its rhythm to a more even pace. Even the Doctor was distressed by the blight the Entity sought to punish us with.

            No… even _Herman_ was distressed.

            I never thought about the killers much, in all the years I had been here. All I had ever cared about was the paths to take when running and the wires to cross when repairing. Being a survivor had always come naturally; survive and live another day or die by their hands to just be revived again and do it all over in some sick, twisted game. I had known of my fate, knew that I was condemned to live and die for the sake of the creature that created this world, forced to be a part of Its plans whether I wanted to or not. And not just me, but all the comrades I had met, from the ones who had been here the longest all the way to the newest beings. It had always been like this, for what must be years now that we have all been sucked into this realm that had no time, and never once had I thought about the killers unless it was if they were on her trail. To suddenly realize that maybe they weren’t here for the pleasure of it gave me a heavy, guilty feeling that I had never thought to wonder before. I had just been playing the Entity’s game like a good survivor. We all had.

            No more.

We had to tackle this head-on if we wanted to get anywhere near fixing the blight. I chewed my thumb nail, letting my feet carry me back to the center of the Trial, passing the now finished generator, thinking that if I could somehow stun him for long enough to reach over him and grab the vial, I could pull it out. I risked dying, but it’s not something I haven’t dealt with before. Now I just had to find a pallet or flashlight, _something_ to use against him. I looked overhead at the windows, the available vaults and open doorways overhead, at the two lone pallets that sat close to me, and the pair of lockers that tucked themselves close to one of the staircases.

            There wasn’t much more time to think. My heart was beginning to thud in my ears. I crept up the stairs, slowly, quietly, using a trick Nea had taught me long ago to evade killers while still keeping a normal walking pace. Urban evasion, she had called it, a skill she had honed and perfected in her life before landing here. Thinking of it now, Nea didn’t really talk about her past life much, nor did she share her thoughts to the rest of us now that we’ve been here for so long. I would have to remember to ask again; maybe this time she’ll talk and let down her walls.

            Speaking of Nea, here she was. She bolted through the operation room, watching over her shoulder as the half-decayed Doctor charged after her just barely three yards behind her. He was huffing and snarling, drool and glowing orange slime dripping from his jawbone, trailing down his muscled arms to his hands which held his weapon in a tight, vice grip. I briefly saw her look up at my position, take note of where I was hiding, before looping around to the pallet underneath of where I hid.

            Wait…!  
            “Nea!” I called down, watching her make for a second lap around the operation room. The Doctor was quickly closing in now that they were in closer quarters. “Can you stun him?”

            “ _What?_ ” Nea dodged the first swing, ducking behind the restraining chair and around to the far wall again.

            “Just stun him, under this pallet!”

            “What in the fuck for?” Nea hissed, narrowly dodging another swing of that massive, serum-filled baton. “Feng, have you lost your damned-”

            “Just _do it!_ ” My insistence paid off. Nea cast one last glare over her shoulder and made for the pallet underneath of my window, ducking out of my sightline with the Doctor only a few breaths behind her. I was worried she wouldn’t make it in time, worried I had just got her killed. She listened to my orders, surprisingly, and now she might have to pay for it. I watched the Doctor raise his arm, high overhead, and lunge ahead at the spunky punk.

            But the pallet came down hard, smacking against his head and knocking his fearsome weapon from the air. The man hunched over to steady himself with a long, pained groan, his legs barely working to keep him upright and on his feet. I saw the vial, gleaming, exposed by his lapse in stability, taunting me with its evil quintessence bubbling within the thick glass, and knew that my chance was now or never. I leapt from my perch, grabbing onto the Doctor’s rigid posture, grappling for purchase on the man while scrabbling for the glass jutted from his muscled shoulder. I never knew just how ripped Herman was, and having to find out like this wasn’t a comfort. I heard Nea shrieking curses and questions, heard the tree of a man I was climbing huffing and snarling anew, felt rather than saw him reaching aimlessly to grab at me, coming close a few times to the hem of my shirt.

            “What the fuck is going on?” Quentin was running back into the operation room following all the commotion and screaming. Behind him, Claudette rushed with her medical kit handy, but I didn’t get much time to focus on them. The Doctor was spinning now, howling, distraught to have one of its victims upon his back. He rammed himself left and right, into cabinets and rolling beds, into the wall and the roaring generator, but I held on as tight as I could. I was so close to grabbing the vial, my hand reached up towards it-

            His hand found purchase around a fistful of my Laser Bears shirt. I felt the fabric tear at the force he exerted to rip me from his back, fling me across the ground, knock me against the chair that sat electrified by the powered generator before I could catch myself on the floor. I didn’t have the time to wipe the blood from my nose when he was on top of me again, reaching for my throat, the electricity in him charging up to fry my brain. I shut my eyes, preparing for the worst, preparing to feel again the sheer power of his static course through my body with such speed and might that it was all I could do but let myself be a victim to the kill.

            But the kill never came. I opened my eyes again, slowly. Herman still glared down at me, but his other hand was held open towards the others, who all stood aside, an audience to the suspected slaughter that was supposed to have come. They weren’t sure what to do, and I didn’t know what to tell them. My hands came up to wrap around his wrist, trying to pry him away, but his grip was steadfast. He leaned down, closer, his eyes locked on mine. His jaw opened and closed, the teeth clicking together with the effort he was making. I could smell the putrid plague on his breath as he managed to croak a single noise, something close to “aisle,” but his lack of lips made words hard to decipher.

            The vial.

            The realization came faster than I expected. Was he fighting the serum? He hadn’t moved, hadn’t tried to kill me though he easily could have by now. He was just clicking his teeth and staring me down, not letting me move from underneath of him, repeating that same noise as much as he could with an almost insistent look in his eyes. Tentatively, I let one hand slide away from his wrist, move up, reach for his shoulder. I kept my movements slow, hesitant, just in case if I moved too fast that the putrid poison would kick back in and my life would end with the snap of my neck. I felt the cold glass on my fingertips, the heat of the aggravated, infected flesh that the concoction seeped into.

            A groan swept over Herman. His grip on my throat went lax, and he slumped forward so that I may try for a better grip. My other hand reached up, taking hold of the vial with both hands now, holding the ailing doctor against my shoulder while readjusting my hold on the slippery glass. What a picture I must make, pinned underneath him not for death, but for comfort. The doctor had been seeking _us_ for help. What was to say the other killers weren’t trying too?

            I pulled the vial out easily enough, almost too easy, as though he had tried and failed to remove the item himself. The needle had to have been at least three inches long, still dripping with the contents of its half-empty container mixed with the dark, infected blood of Herman. I held it out behind him to where Quentin now approached and took the item from me, who wasn’t sure if he should offer a hand of assistance or not. The Doctor hadn’t moved, was barely breathing, and I knew I wasn’t going to be moving for a while.

            “How many generators are left?” I murmured quietly to Q. He held up three fingers, still unsure if he should speak up. I took a slow breath, catching a glance from the girls before finally settling on Quentin again, “Go do the rest, I’ll stay here until he comes around or until he kills me. Claudette, take that vial and keep it safe. I want it back in the clearing.”

            “Feng, what in the fuck?” Nea threw up her hands, thrown out of the loop. She cast incredulous stares at Claudette and Quentin, spinning on her heels to pace and come back as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing or saying. “First I’m running for my damned life, then you say, ‘oh, stun him, stun him!’ You weren’t even in any damned danger, but y’know, _I was._ And I’m like, fuck, okay? So, I threw it down, and then you jump down like a god damned spider-monkey and start, what, _groping_ him?!”

            “Nea-”

            “Do I look like I’m done talking?” She snapped at Claudette, stomping her foot and gesturing harshly at the man still slumped over on my person. “So, then he chokes you on the floor like some pervert, doing this creepy ass whisper, and you _let him_! For, what, that dumb ass needle? And now he’s _still_ on top of you!”

            “Nea!” Now I was raising my voice, struggling to sit up on my elbows to get better leverage. “Will you just shut up and listen-”

            “This is fucking _wrong_ , Feng, he should be chasing us, not sleeping on us!” She continued to spit and snarl, pulling at her hair and turning hate filled eyes towards me and Herman. “He should still be chasing me through these god damned halls, kicking fucking generators and shoving that rigid piece of shit up our god damned asses while shrieking and laughing like the sick fuck he is!”

            “ _Are you done_?” My patience for her shrieking was spent. I narrowed a glare at her, forcing her mouth closed. “I am doing what’s best for us, so shut the hell up. You saw how deranged that needle has made not just Herman, but the Trapper and Huntress as well. The same poison that’s in that needle is in Vanessa, and now that we have it, we can try to work something out to help Vanessa.”

            “Are you even listening to yourself!? _Herman_!? What, you’re doing what that slut does now, call them by their first names, treat them like people? _Entertain_ them?” Nea’s venom came out in an angered rush. She was refusing to come closer to me, closer to the Doctor, but she was not backing down.

            “Nea, I am listening to myself, but you aren’t. Things are _changing_ , Nea, don’t you get it? We have a chance, a real chance! We know who spies on us and on them, we know what works against the Entity, we know how to fight back. What are you so afraid of that you won’t fight back? Don’t you want things to change? Don’t you want to live a better fucking life than running in circles for eternity?!”

            “I don’t want things to change!” She finally shouted, breaking loose from the wall she had built herself with fists balled tightly. I watched droplets fall from her dirty face to hit the ground with little splashes, her mouth contort into a grimace as her face both drained in color and heated with the emotions that were finally bubbling to the surface. “I… I don’t want things to change. I never wanted things to change, but they just keep changing and _changing_ and I fucking hate it. I’m done with change!”

            “Nea…” I could barely whisper her name before she was taking off into one of the many halls, pushing past the other two to escape my questions and gather herself back up in her seclusion, back to a bottled up piece of work who would rather run forever than turn and face her fears. I tried gently to push Herman off my person, but he was too heavy and wouldn’t budge, only moaned at being disturbed. I couldn’t go after her. I pinched the bridge of my nose, forcing back the headache that was brewing in the front of my skull, now faced with yet another problem.

            Quentin and Claudette took their leave then, leaving me to my devices and thoughts. It didn’t take them long at all to prove themselves efficient as first one generator went off, then another. Just one left. It was maddening, not being able to get up and assist, my legs going numb and staticky from being buried under this large man. We only had one more generator left and here I was, still fixed under Herman, who I couldn’t be sure if he was rousing or not. I tried to get a look at his face, his eyes, try to see if they were open, but his head was turned away.

            Well… If he was really asleep… I pushed a little harder on his shoulder, trying to force either him off or myself out from under him. I maybe budged an inch when his hand came up and grabbed me by the wrist, halting my endeavors. I went still, quiet, catching my breath, but the heartbeat never came. He was either too weak and dazed or was finally coming around, and my movements had disturbed whatever rest he was trying to get. His fingers squeezed slowly, feeling my pulse in my wrist, paying attention to how it jumped under each squeeze of his long digits or move his body made. Finally, I could pull my legs from under him and get into a straighter upright position when his form finally rose from on top of mine. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, wouldn’t let me see his face as he slowly turned around the operation room. He was on his feet when he finished his slow circle, turning back around to finally settle his gaze on where I still sat leaning on the restraining chair.

            Still grotesque, still half rotted, but it was already healing. He had a mouth again, not just teeth and a jawbone, the slick tendrils of the Entity barely stitching themselves into place until his flesh could replace the substance. Even his guts had resituated themselves inside his belly, settled in coils and twists just below his twitching organs. I averted my eyes, pushing down the rising sickness in my stomach and managed to find my voice, “Feeling better?”

            Herman didn’t answer at first. I heard him shuffle, draw his trench coat tighter around him to hide the more gruesome bits that had only just begun to heal, gross abscesses and rot that honestly should have killed him in any other circumstance. Could the killers die? The thought was an interesting one, but not one I could outright answer. After all, they would have needed to die to reach this place.

            “… Are you the one who pulled it out?” His voice was hoarse, his words a croak that pulled me from the thought train fuming through my head. When I turned to look at him once more, he stood with one hand gripped tight on the folds of his cloak, holding the garment closed over his chest. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed that he had been the one being hunted and not I. He looked as sheepish as Dwight did when he had opted to abandon a teammate for the sake of his own life long, long ago. The Doctor took a shuffling step forward, grimacing at some bodily ache that he was sure to have, “The serum?”

            “Yeah… yeah, I pulled it out.” I managed to get myself to my feet, fighting through the prickling pins that made my legs feel how the many television screens in the treatment theater appeared, heavily aware of his eyes upon me. They weren’t crazed, or forlorn, or desperate now. Just sullen, dull, and cautiously curious. “Look… I know that you and I haven’t always been on the best terms. Because frankly, I don’t like those moldy electrodes you’re always using to prod our brains with.” A short chuckle escaped him in a sort of gasping cough, because he knew it to be true, however I wasn’t without my own faults, “But, y’know… I’m willing to try for better, if you are.”

            Herman was quiet for a while, mulling over my admittance and offer at peace, even as the final generator roared to life and sent a surge of power to the doors. I turned my head towards where I knew one of the doors would always be, began towards it, but his hand caught mine again, keeping me there in the gentlest grip I had ever felt from him. I didn’t look back at him, only tugged gently, but still he wouldn’t let go.

            “I’m willing to try.” He sounded soft, not like the mad doctor I had come to know. “For the better.”

            “For the better.” I repeated, turning to look at him and exchange what had to have been a smile. This won a soft look in turn, and the release of my hand as he retreated from the operation room to the deeper parts of the hospital. Was this how Vanessa felt, when she stood before the killers and was accepted? I didn’t blame her now, for any of the times she snuck off to be with them. It was an odd feeling, but a satisfying one, to know that even in this wretched world that there is hope for company other than that of bloodlust.

*-*-*

            The Endgame timer had barely begun when our team swept out from that Trial, leaving the turns of the hospital and Herman behind. Nea was doing very well to keep herself away from the group, keeping ahead of us so she could throw a spiteful glare over her shoulder in my direction. But if she didn’t want to be a part of this, a part of this change, then that was on her. Vanessa had already led the charge, forged the path for us to follow, and now it was time to set forth.

            The trek back was short, our long strides guiding us through the tall trees until our familiar clearing appeared before us in all its safety and firelit glow. The others looked up from where they huddled around the campfire, clustered tightly side by side, accompanied by a familiar girl wearing a heavy purple hoodie and a woman whose appearance seemed to be half rotted even without the aid of the serum. My eyebrow raised at the visitors, surprised still to see that they were all so close together. “What’s going on?”

            “I was worried,” Susie’s hands squeezed the hem of her hoodie, averting her blue eyes from my face. Oh, I was the scary one now? Well, it’s not like I could blame her. “No one’s been sent in lately for Trials. I went to check everywhere else, to the Red Forest and the MacMillan Estate, pretty much every possible location a Trial could be… but everywhere I went just smelled… rotten.” At this, the Plague nodded her head ever so slightly, picking up on the word. “Even here, I smell it. But I guess that’s Vanessa, huh?”

            My eyes travelled from her face to the girl in question, who of course hadn’t moved in the span of time it had taken to complete my Trial. “Yeah… Have the others brought you up to speed?”

            “Mhm.” Susie cast a nervous glance at me again, then back to Vanessa. “Have you?”

            “Yeah. I’m in on it, now. No more secrets.” I approached her slowly, still finding it difficult to be in such close proximity to someone who could so easily filet me, but the ease would come in time. “Is she in on it too?” With this, I make a small nod towards the tall priestess that still stood behind her, watching her surroundings and listening in with careful poise. “Does she speak?”

            “Adiris? She talks, just not like us.” Susie answered quietly, fumbling for a way to speak of her companion. “I don’t really understand her very well, but Anna does. They’re pretty close… which is why she came and got me with an armful of all of her incense. She just kept repeating this gibberish, but it was the same sounds. She kept pointing to herself, then at her… whatever that thing is, that!” She points at the censer in the woman’s hand, prompting Adiris to hold it up higher and allow the incense burning inside of it to billow around in a thick, sweet cloud. “I didn’t get it, and I still don’t, but then she grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me here.”

            “Well, she’s trying to tell you _something_.” Kate was the one to speak now, hands on her hips, taking on the attention from Susie and the regal woman. “Can she understand us?” When Susie failed to answer, she turned her attention now to the tall woman, waving at her until her grey-blue gaze was settled on her face. “Can you understand us?” Still, the woman didn’t answer, only tilted her head to the side in curiosity. “Okay, that’s a no. Well, she brought you here for something, right?”

            “Maybe… this?” Claudette came forward from behind me, carefully brandishing the half-filled needle we had pulled from Herman’s shoulder. The Plague’s focus shifted from Kate to the new item, her posture taking a more animated stance, her long legs moving to take her closer to the new thing that had been presented. Without need for words, Claudette closed the distance between them, now within arms’ reach, and no sooner had the space been breached when the woman’s nimble fingers plucked the needle from Claudette’s grasp.

            “What is she doing?” I heard Quentin mumble behind me.

            “From what I know,” Susie interjected, finally meeting eyes with the other survivors, “Adiris used to be a priestess in Babylon. At least, that’s what Anna told me.” The girl seemed content to let Adiris flip the needle over in her palm, dab a single dot of the serum on an outstretched finger, wince at the burning sensation it caused. “Had a great following, served a lot of people, even banished herself for them. How she ended up here is beyond me.”

            “Plague.” Claudette whispered, her face turned away from me. “She ended up here because of a plague. How else would she be covered in lesions and smell like infection?”

            The clearing was quiet after that, letting the newfound information settle in. Quentin went to his normal seat watching over Vanessa, but joined now by Claudette, Susie, and the curious Adiris. I watched for a moment as the censer was waved over the length of the plagued girl’s body, meticulous in her movements and soft chants that slipped from her lips in quiet prayer. I couldn’t help but stare at her bejeweled fingers and headdress, watch the lights shimmer with her movements, bowing down and raising back up with hands open towards the always full moon. I only just pieced together that maybe she was praying to some god or performing some ritual to call down a healing spirit into Vanessa.

The others went back to their normal activities, but nothing could be normal now, could it? There was not one, but two killers welcomed into the circle, aiding an ailing member of our faction, and this is after I aided one of theirs and they don’t even know about it yet. Gears were turning in the plan, moving us along closer to our goal, closer to some sort of peace with the Entity and Its servants. And it was terrifying to think of, that an end of some kind was coming. I couldn’t help but scope out Nea, who had retreated to the edge of the clearing to gaze out into the woods, looking more like a lost girl than the ball of sass I had come to know. She had been so adamant in the hospital, that things needed to stay the same, things didn’t need to change about our situation. And now, all of a sudden, the paths she used to take and the interactions that she used to have with anyone near her were suddenly askew, her feet tripping while she struggles to maintain her semblance of normal even in this hellish realm. It made me wonder how she ended up here in the first place.


	28. Chapter 28

            Eugh…

            “Is she coming around?”

            My head felt as though Anna had cracked it open with her broad axe and scrambled my brain matter around inside my skull. Pain was piercing through from temple to temple, from the back of the skull to the front, and aching along the vertebrae in my neck. I felt hands on my shoulders, my neck, my face, gracing me with their cool touch against the heat of my flesh, but also aggravating me with their pressure and insistence to keep touching my overheated skin. I tried to swat at them, push them away, but more hands were around mine, much larger and softer than I expected.

            I cracked an eye open, wincing at the crust that had gathered along my eyelashes.

            It was blurry, at first, but the images came slowly. Quentin was knelt behind me, holding my hair out of my face, his gaze constantly shifting between me and something else that was situated in front of me. Claudette was the one who’s hands traveled around my face and neck, but only now did I notice the rag that she was using to clean my skin with. It was dirty and wet with remnants of sickness, giving me want to pull away with even more vigor, but another hand stayed me where I lay.

            The hand of Adiris. Long, elegant, jeweled fingers, gentle and cool like a refreshing spring. I found myself melting under her touch, drawn to the sensation of her digits dragging from my chest, up my throat to my mouth, my chin leaning into the softness of her palm until an unbidden heave forced bile and the last few drops of the putrid serum to dirty her hand, coat her pale skin in my sickness. I had to sit up, roll over so I was face down, letting my body work it up and force it out in a small puddle in the grass rather than continue to purge on Adiris.

            Fresh pain bloomed in the back of my skull, reverberating through my body in waves of heat and chill with every shudder. I had never felt so feverish before since coming to the Entity’s realm, and I couldn’t remember a time before my arrival here that I had ever felt so nauseous and ill. Still, their hands pestered me, petting me with sweet comforts and holding my hair so it wouldn’t fall into my face. I didn’t have the patience nor strength to send them away.

            It was some time before my body was finally ready to let me have control again. I sat upright, hunched over still with the pain bursting through my skull and gut, but at least I wasn’t throwing up nothingness anymore. My throat and chest burned from the acidic contents of my stomach, but it would calm down soon enough, I hope. Claudette had refreshed her rag, and was wiping it over my brow now and the back of my neck, her voice blissfully quiet as she asks, “How are you feeling?”

            “I feel like absolute shit.” My voice croaked, “How long was I out for?”

            “Fourteen Trials.” Feng’s appearance was a surprise, and the water canteen in her hand was not unwelcome. She had this look in her eye, one I hadn’t seen from her before, and a small quirk of a smile pulled at the corner of her lips. “Susie and Adiris came to check on us while you were out. They were worried.”

            “They were?” Now I let my head raise just a bit more to look up at the tall woman, who was cleaning her hands with a piece of fabric Quentin offered her, but I didn’t turn enough to see where Susie could be. “How much has happened?”

            “The Trials haven’t been against any of the Killers other than the blighted ones.” Feng elaborated, keeping her voice even and soft, “But there’s one less blighted one to worry about. Two Trials passed since then, but I went in with Quentin, Nea, and Claudette to Lery’s. It was the Doctor, of course, but…” Her voice trailed away, trying to piece together her words, her hands spinning slowly around themselves as she thought of what to say, “When I found him, he was looking at himself in one of the broken mirrors. He just looked-”

            “Lost?” I pieced together for her, to which she nodded. “Yeah… it’s hard to see them like that. You can tell they’re still in there, and it’s heartbreaking to watch them cave in on themselves.” I hadn’t personally gone against the Doctor in his blighted state, but from what the others had said, he looked as though he had been torn open and left that way. I brought my hands up to my temples, rubbing slowly to try to alleviate the pain, “We’re gonna find a way to fix them. That serum is just awful. I don’t want to leave them like that any longer than they already have been.”

            “I’ve already figured that out.”

            I raised a brow, not sure I believed her. “You did?”

            “Yeah. Herman’s been fixed.” That’s when I saw it, the item that had held the poison and injected the killers with that toxic substance. It lay in the grass beside Adiris, half empty, crusted with old blood and congealed globs of wasted substance. Feng Min caught my stare and picked it up carefully, turning it over in her palm before holding it out towards me. “I pulled this out of his shoulder and he just slumped over.”

            “He let you?” My eyes traced the silhouette of the vial before my own hands lifted it from hers, feeling the coolness of the glass on my palms. Now that it was in my hands, I could feel the weight of the glass, feel the viscous liquid pool and swish around with my hand motions. “I can’t imagine he didn’t put up a fight when you tried. Or did you sneak up behind him?”

            “I jumped on top of him, actually.” She had a charming giggle, chiming like bells and ringing sweetly. I never thought I would actually hear the sound, let alone in this hellscape. “Like a spider monkey, as Nea said it. He did throw me on the ground and pin me… but I think he fought against the effects long enough to let me pull it out of him.” The laughter trickled away from her voice as quick as it had come. A sad sort of smile replaced the expression now, her face turning away to look across the clearing at some far-off object. “But we know it can be done now, removing the vial. We just need the killers to realize that we’re pulling it out of them.”

            “What if we recruited the others?” Susie’s voice surprised me with how close she sounded. I turned to find her cross-legged behind me, on the other side of Claudette, fumbling with her hands. A smile crossed her face when my eyes met hers, a brief flash of relief showing in her expression, and she continued with a bit more enthusiasm, “Herman isn’t blighted anymore, but he should still have some, like, time to recover. But like, there are twelve more of us who weren’t blighted… well, technically, if you count my friends its, like, fifteen? That’s plenty of us to help you guys go in, out of Trial, to help them. ‘Cuz, y’know, who said you have to be in a Trial to do it?”

            “Susie’s got a good point.” The acknowledgement from Feng was more than surprising. How much really happened while I was out? “We should delegate teams to go in and assist where they can. It’ll be hard, figuring out who’s in a Trial and who isn’t, but I’m sure we can manage it.” She held her hand out for the vial, which I gladly handed over. “As for this, I’m hoping we can figure out a sort of cure in the case this happens again. Or try to hold onto the vials, store them away, make it so Benedict and Vigo can’t get them again.”

            “Benedict? Vigo?” Susie frowned, staring hard at the vial now. “They did this…?”

            “Yeah… they did.” I groaned and slowly pulled myself to my feet, forcing myself through the dizziness that followed to wander closer to the campfire. “They’ve been spying on us, and on you guys. They aren’t to be trusted.” I waved off a hand of one of my fellows, their face too blurry for me to make out who it was. “I’m fine, I just… need air.”

            “And a new change of clothes, and a bath.” Feng had followed me, grabbing hold of my wrist so I couldn’t go much further than the logs that served as seating around our little campfire. “You reek. Really bad.” I snorted, which was a mistake on my part because it sent another pulse of pain rattling in my skull and yet another bout of dizziness. “We’ve got clothes, but I’m not sure where we can take you to get clean.”

            I thought of the water reservoir in Evan’s cave, but that was a dangerous place, and off-limits. If we all went in there, or even just a few of us, we would have Evan to deal with, and the Entity wouldn’t be far behind. I’m sure that Evan wouldn’t mind if it was just me… but his mind isn’t there. He was still under toxic influence, probably more so than the first time we ran into him, and that was a terrifying thought. Going by myself would be safer- I could hide better from him- but I didn’t feel well enough that I could succeed on my own. There had to be another alternative.

            But I didn’t have time to fornicate some plan of action. The call reached its slick grip from the shadows of the trees, slithering through the grass towards our group. I knew I had to go in; I had sat out for too many Trials, and the Entity wanted to make sure I pulled my weight, whether I was well enough to or not. I stepped into Its grip rather than have It forcefully take me, guided now into the not so welcoming shade of the trees beyond.

*-*-*

            I was feeling better by the time I reached the Trial grounds. The shadow left me standing alone inside what I assumed to be a preschool. I could see child’s drawings on the walls, little toddler-sized chairs knocked over besides small tables, and chalkboards littered with elementary writing. The classroom seemed way too small to be functional, but perhaps that was something the Entity didn’t understand. The rooms served the purposes intended for the survivors and killers, and that was good enough for the infallible Entity. Peering down the halls, I could see what must have been a receptionist desk, the same red lockers from every other map tucked behind it, and holes that had been torn into the floor to act as a drop-down to whatever lay below. I didn’t stay to look; I could faintly hear the Entity-imposed heartbeat that always meant that the killer was close by.

            I crept out of the school, out the front and around to an overgrown playground, and beyond it to where a generator sat untouched behind a wooden fence. The heartbeat still hadn’t subsided, and I didn’t want to start working until I could be sure that the killer was gone, but it was hard to tell if the killer was even moving. It would be bad if I got my wires crossed while the killer was so close, and I was no technician when it came to ensuring the generators did _not_ explode. To make things worse, I hadn’t even so much as turned around to see who my team was when we left the clearing; I had been too busy dragging my feet and focusing on not throwing up.

            The heartbeat wasn’t going away, and it wasn’t getting closer.

            “Vee!” I heard Dwight call. I looked down the fence line to where Dwight was standing, waving his hand for me to come with him. Hurriedly, I abandoned my still untouched generator and lightly jogged towards him, which proved to be yet another mistake. I slowed down to a stop and barely kept myself from throwing up again, only looking up to see him frown, turn his attention beyond the fence line, then back at me, “We gotta hurry. This might be our only chance.”

            “What are you talking about?” I groaned, straightening up to stagger after him. But my question didn’t need an answer; after rounding the corner, I saw exactly what he meant. She stood there facing one of the few trees that could be found in this suburban area, her head bowed to press into the bark and her hands lax on her heavy axe. She wasn’t humming, an oddity that only deepened my worry for her wellbeing, and she wasn’t swaying with that usual lilt to her head. She was a statue, bleeding oozing pus and misery, a fixture to the tree that appeared to be content with staying there until her woe drained out of her. I forced down my own ailment to step closer to her, creeping in a large radius until I could position myself directly in her blind spot. If I was quick enough, I could yank it out of her and get away quick enough to bear some chance of escape.

            But her head turned. She sensed our presence.

            Her eyes, covered in gunk and a bleary red haze, landed on me first, judging my stance and closeness. Then, further beyond, she spotted Dwight. Her interest shifted, her body went into motion, and she was headed straight for him with a gurgling, strained hum. Her momentum grew with each long-legged stride, and I could only watch helplessly as she closed the distance between them. Why wasn’t Dwight running? She’d be on top of him in just a few more paces, and he still hadn’t so much as took a step backwards, just stood there with this stupidly determined look on his face.

            And then he dropped his trousers to expose himself in this tight leather speedo, one I didn’t know he owned, and wished I could say I had never seen. I covered my face, peering through my split fingers with painful curiosity, only able to whimper as I watched the woman bear down at him while he hollered, “Mistress! Don’t you remember me?” He peeled away his shirt, leaving him in nothing but that little black speedo, the tight leather shimmering in the strange lighting surrounding the preschool. He wasn’t very toned underneath, and I’m sure he was aware of that fact, but still I couldn’t manage to pull my burning eyes away, “C’mon, remember Odin? Don’t you remember finding me in the basement?”

            Anna was before him now, only standing maybe two feet from him. Her head lilted to one side, then the other. There was quiet, or maybe she said something that I couldn’t hear from well enough behind them, because Dwight’s face flushed a crimson shade, his words stuttering through his lips, “It’s not sausage sized, thank you very much.” Well, from this angle, I couldn’t argue that the Huntress _wasn’t_ right… “C’mon… don’t you want to go back to the basement? You’re not gonna stop me from touching that hook again.” This evoked an alarming predatory growl, but unlike any I had heard before. It sounded more like a cat readying itself to pounce on its favorite toy. “Oh, you want to play?”

            This was a display I really didn’t want to see. Dwight took a slow stroll to the nearest hook, which of course was closer in my direction and nestled against a pair of trees and some brush. He kept grinning over his shoulder at Anna, bringing her closer with a slow wag of his hips, and she was completely enraptured in it, so much so that the red haze that had overtaken her eyes had dissipated into nothingness.

            “Dwight… you’re a fucking nut, you know that?” I muttered, waiting, backing off and giving the two enough space so that he could do whatever it was he planned to. But did he need my help? I watched him parade himself under the hook, grin at the rabbit-masked woman, and do a small waving motion in my direction; go away. I didn’t need to be told twice.

            I left the two of them behind and opted to go to the opposite side of the Trial grounds. If Dwight was sure he had a grasp on the situation with Anna, then by all means I was going to let him do as he intended. But there was still the matter of getting out of the Trial alive, and to do that generators needed to be completed. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind when two generators on the far end of the Trial lit up the sky, their power surging through the groundwork to send miniscule amounts of power to the surrounding houses and light poles. Two down, three left to go.

            A hatchet flew through the air and planted itself in the tree to my left. I frowned, looking back the way I had come, and kept moving forward. In the time it took to get the other three generators going, I didn’t see another _hatchet_ , didn’t hear any humming of any sort, nor did I hear Dwight’s scream of agony. Only when the very last generator popped on, and the exit gates had almost open, did I see them again. Anna looked a little worse for wear, but I could already tell that the pus had begun to subside, and she was more herself again. Dwight, who was blessedly clothed again, stood dutifully beside her, holding in his hand the vial that had been shoved into her shoulder; he had been successful.

It just seemed too easy, to take the vials out just like that and give the killers time to recover, like the Entity hadn’t thought all the way through this grand plan of infecting Its killers. As though this punishment was an afterthought to whatever other plan it was concocting. The thought of something else brewing in the background was worrisome, but we had handled everything well enough so far, what would another curve ball from the Entity do to us?

*-*-*

            It proved a lot easier to remove those vials than we had originally thought. The killers had been so sick with poison that they would much rather mope in one spot than move about and hunt down their prey. There were some issues with the Hillbilly, however that was to be expected. Dwight and Anna had gone to the Farm to tend to the Hillbilly, since the two were an apparent “thing” and Anna was the mother figure of the killers. I was told that she had held onto Max by the arms, coaxed him to stay still while Dwight eased the needle from the deformed boy’s neck, then wrapped him into the tightest hug she could must now that their shared pain could be blissfully over. The Wraith, as tall as he was, easily bent over to allow Claudette to pull the vial away in another Trial. One after the other, predators freed by prey, until all who was left was Evan, the largest challenge.

            Unlike the others, the sickness had made him irritable. In another series of Trials, it was rare that a generator would roar to life when he prowled the grounds. Traps would be darker than the dirt itself, hidden in tufts of grass or cleverly placed against the walls of window vaults. Worse yet, there was no hesitance, no trace of his personality, only a heartless brute with a need to kill. And for this, I decided to go alone to the Estate, liking my chances on my own more than with the others at my side. The sight of a group may make him angrier, may make him lash out, and if anyone was going to take that heat it needed to be me. He was the last killer that needed to be cured, and I was there when they injected their most potent serum. I knew how much he fought against his restraints once that poison was in him.

            I just hoped that I could do it.

            We hadn’t been back from the Trial for long when I was getting ready to again, steeling myself for the scuffle with the big man that I knew was coming. It would either be life or death when it came to him, and if it meant getting that vial out, I was choosing death for his sake. I took a long look around the clearing, to where Nea sulked in the same spot she had for a while now, to Feng watching me prepare for my outing, to Dwight who blushed when he met my gaze. But things had gotten better between all of us, so I couldn’t just leave without saying anything. I took a slow breath, and made a move towards Feng, “Hey, um… I-”

            “I know.” She smiled, though it wasn’t a true one. She clasped her hands together, her fingers running over her knuckles, “I can’t stop you from going, but I can at least wish you good luck.” She was picking her words carefully, but I didn’t feel any scathe coming from her intentions. “He’s a big man, but I’ve seen how gentle he’s been with you. And… I’m sorry.”

            “Sorry, for what?” Now this was a surprise.

            “For… calling you a bitch before, and all the other stuff.” She wasn’t looking at me. “When I helped Herman out, I didn’t expect to feel good about it. I pulled that vial out because he was more dangerous like that than before, and he had the stuff that could help us cure you. But he was so careful not to hurt me, and it felt _good_ for once, and I realized maybe that’s why you hang out with them so much. We haven’t been very fair to you, Vanessa, but you have to understand.”

            “Feng, I do understand.” Now I was the one smiling. I took her hands in mine, then pulled her in to a hug, whispering quietly, “You’ve been here for so long, and I came in like an arrogant bear with all these ideas and thoughts. I should have said something to all of you guys sooner than try to do it on my own.” When was the last time I had hugged anyone? And in return, how long had it been since I had been held so tightly by someone else? “Maybe then I could have had one of your good ideas to help me.”

            “Yeah…” Slowly, she pried herself away from me, instead wrapping her thin arms around herself in remembrance of the short-lived affection, “Maybe.” She looked towards the trees, over my shoulder, then back to my face, “Just… be careful, okay? Death isn’t the end here, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less gruesome.” She waited for my nod of approval before first landing a hand on my shoulder, squeezing the last drops of comfort into me, then walking away towards the center of the clearing, closer to Dwight, leaving me to turn and begin my path to the Estate.

My feet carried me beyond the tree line, through the tall oaks and under low hanging boughs, pushed forth by the wind in the leaves and called forward by the sonorous call of the crows. My trek was painfully short, each step I took echoed by the nervous beat of my heart, growing ever faster and harder with every foot fall closer I grew to Evan’s stomping grounds until I breached the outer brick wall that encompassed the edge of the territories. The trees here had lost their invitation, the old bricks dull with the remnant of antique charm they once had. The grounds here had been painted with blood and pus, haunted with the screams of the dying done by the wretched hands of a sickness-crazed monster, sucking away whatever comfortable familiarity I had made with this place.

            This must be how the others feel. They knew of the dangerous beings that lurked around the corner, had grown accustomed to keeping an open ear and their head on a swivel. Before I came, before they had this plan of mine to overthrow the master of the land, they were forced to adapt and survive to ever changing maps, memorize where the typical spots a generator or totem could appear, and then make it through the gates once they were powered, provided they hadn’t been slayed by the hunter’s blade, first. This feeling of being completely helpless, powerless, and utterly hopeless… I couldn’t help but think that this was no way to spend an afterlife.

            My foot just barely missed the rusted steel hidden in a patch of tall grass. It wasn’t set, but it was a grim reminder that I needed to watch my step. I remembered the instructions Evan had given; just because it wasn’t a Trial didn’t mean that traps weren’t placed amongst the grass and pallets from Trials before. If I did step in one, pull the coil back and the locking mechanism would release. I remembered just how careful he had been to show me, how gently he had treated me then despite his reputation for being an angry, ruthless brute. It seemed like eons ago when we spoke softly of the journal I had found, of the mangled mess my ankle had become, to each other of our feelings towards our comrades and our great Overseer. I could barely recall the tender look he had in his eyes when we met, the foggy feeling of his lips on mine from even longer ago, all of it fragments of tender touch that made my heart ache for the Evan before the Entity had seen fit to play with Its toys and ruin them.

            I wanted my gentle Evan back.

            The cave opened before me like a great black maw, snaggle-toothed with stalactites that dripped with years’ worth of condensation and rain, if it ever rained in this realm. I could already smell the dank aroma of darkness, humid and water-rich air tainted with the stench of that dreaded poison mixed in with the typical damp of waterlogged moss clinging to the walls. Even the comforts of this cave had lost its charm. I found myself hesitating, hands squeezing the pointed ends of a set of stalagmites, but this had to be done. I had to go in.

            I tried to listen past the sounds of my footsteps echoing back at me, listened to the ripples in the puddles that collected in age-old dents in the floor. If I looked hard enough in the dark, I could see the rounded outlines of boot tread, and I knew this had to be the path Evan had always taken back to his resting place, legs heavy with ache, worn out from Trials, carrying the burden of our deaths in his hands; hands that had dragged upon these walls, stained it with coppers and browns, still prominent even as I traced my hands along those same marks, fitting my tiny palm and fingers in the large palm mark left behind by him. It was strange to see just how big the size difference was between myself and him, just how different our worlds were just because the Entity thought that this worked better. I never thought about the future this world could hold if my plan did happen to work, and we got what we wanted. Would we just… die? Never go back into another Trial again? Or would we be able to mingle with our hunters, establish a “no hard feelings” rule? Clearly, it worked for some of us, in the case of myself and Dwight, but what about the others who didn’t have a relationship like mine or Dwight’s? There was a lot of mystery ahead, but it was time to delve into the fog and see what lay ahead. For all of us.

            A rumble ahead of me drew my eyes away from the dried blood painted on the walls to instead the shadows, where the sound had originated from. I saw within it motion, movement, a glow of sickness and a low burning anger. Metal scraped stone, a heavy boot thudded forward, a labored breath huffed against a thin mask. He knew I was here, and I knew he was coming towards me. I dared not move, even as I saw him materialize from the darkness, meat cleaver grasped in an iron fist, that deadly red haze filling the eyeholes of his mask, the flames of bloodlust burning through. I was reminded of a panther, beautiful, massive, dangerously meticulous and calculating in their approach, capable of such grace with the same claws that ended the lives of so many. But instead of claws, a sharpened steel blade in a meaty paw, providing a much heavier swing. The intent to kill was evident, but I couldn’t let that happen, not yet.

            How did Dwight reach Anna?

            “Evan,” I kept my voice low and my feet planted. I didn’t square up to him, exactly, but more so made a point that I wasn’t moving, “Don’t you remember how we met?” A small smile tempted my lips, thinking back. “It was so long ago now. The Entity dumped me into one of your Trials, practically in your lap.” I could just barely remember it. My body had still ached from my death and revival, still foggy and unresponsive to everything that had happened so fast to my person that I had invoked this monstrous man to actually feel pity for me. I had woken up in his cave, so terrified of the world I had been sucked into, terrified of him, terrified that I couldn’t even remember who I was. But he made it all okay, made me understand that it wasn’t too scary, even if it was a gracious lie. “You gave me a name. Farisa. Do you remember that?”

            Evan hadn’t moved, barely silhouetted in the dim lighting that I stood in, but neither had he looked away from me. I had his full, undivided attention. “You helped me know this world. You told me about the Entity, and about the others who work beside you and those who work beside me. You know _so much_ about this world, Evan. Could you tell me more of it?” This incurred a low, irritated grunt. His hand loosened around the hilt of his blade until the entire thing fell with a clatter to the cold floor below, echoing and ringing against the cave’s innards. Only then did he break his focus to look down at his fallen blade, deciding whether he should pick it back up or not. “Evan, I’ve been meaning to ask. How many weapons do you have?”

            “… thirteen.”

            It was slurred, but his response was there. He was listening, he was conscious, and he was fighting the serum. A flutter in my chest forced me to take a pause and breathe. “Okay. That’s a lot. Evan… I know you’re trying so hard not to kill me. I know it.” This made the man huff harshly, but not in a threatening way. He was still there, I had to keep pushing, “I want to try to get that needle out. You have to trust me, okay?”

            “No.” He growled the word, shaking his head. “Nn… safe. Go.”

            “I’m not going. I’m getting it out of you.” I was starting to get desperate, taking a tentative step towards him, hoping to close some of the distance between us. His gaze immediately snapped to my feet, then back up to my face, the red haze flashing between his worried, tired eyes and the bloodlust that the toxins forced him to have. “Even if it means I have to die to do it.” Another step forward, then another. I was so close, I could smell the sweat, the stench of blood and pus, the rot of festering, infected wounds. I could see his pulse jumping in the artery of his neck, see the tremble of his chest as he labored to breathe. “It’s not safe to leave you like this, Evan. They’re going to keep you sick as long as they can. I’ve seen what it did to the others, and I don’t want that to happen to you, too.”

            My eyes were burning. I thought I felt a droplet roll down my cheek, but I didn’t have the time to pay it any mind. My hand was reaching out, my palm flattening on the feverish skin of his arm. He went still, catching his breath, his fingers working to make fists and hastily release them, again and again. I slid around behind him, keeping one hand on him at all times, sliding my palm up the bare skin exposed on his back and shoulders to reach up, try for the precious vial that jutted out from his shoulder not unlike all the others had. My fingertips just barely grazed the glass.

            His body moved away from mine. I only heard him breathing in the darkness, barely had the time to register that he had spun himself around to face me when his hand closed around my throat and he was lifting me. I coughed and gagged, my hands scrabbling at his wrist, my words strangled as I begged him to release me, but the steely coils of his muscles would not budge. I knew that my heart was giving me away, my pulse thudding and pulsing in my veins, beating against the pads of his fingers around my throat, rushing to invigorate my own muscles with energy I couldn’t hope to expend against him. “Evan…!” I choked out his name, whimpering against the fog that hovered over my eyes, threatened with air loss. “Evan, please…!”

            I couldn’t see it behind his mask, but the noise was undeniable. His breath shuddered as his grip tightened, forcing another frightened gasp from my lips just as he choked out his own wretched sob, “I told you to go.” I couldn’t feel my toes or fingers, could barely acknowledge the cold and damp that penetrated through the back of my shirt. Shadows were overwhelming my sight, the only thing certain in my sights now was a man overcome with agony. My hands fell from his wrist, my body began to go slack. Death was coming, and the Entity would be here any moment now to take me into the brief afterlife.

            But it never came.

            The hand came loose, and I was dropped into a heap, taking gracious gasps into my air-deprived lungs, barely hearing past the roar of blood in my ears the pained sounds of a man at war with himself. The shadows were moving, twisting left and right, thick hands grabbing for his own shoulders and face to force himself back into his own skin. He was trying so hard, I knew that, but I was absolutely terrified that I had come so close to dying by his hand again. That had been a pain I had forgotten, and I was not anxious to relive it. “Evan, remember when we met in the Red Forest? You told me I had to run from you, but I didn’t. I still don’t, and I won’t.” He groaned harshly into his hands, refusing to look at me, refusing to acknowledge just how close he had come to ending me right there.

            He was losing the battle against his mind. His hands were going slack against his mask, his body was turning away from me. I could see the red light of the haze reflected on the slick pads of his palms.

            I leapt to my feet as soon as his back was turned, taking two staggering strides towards Evan with hands outreached. I caught him by the overalls, pulled hard to yank him off balance towards me, made a grab for the vial again as his body came crashing down with his weight. But Evan was fast, spinning around to catch himself on his hands and in turn, pin me beneath him on the cold ground, hands on my wrists, hovering over me with such power and presence that it had me stunned. This was an Evan I hadn’t gotten to know; the powerful, predatory Evan, who did his job well enough to earn a reputation amongst my fellows. It was an Evan I didn’t want to know, and yet I felt myself drawn to it at the same time. I swallowed harshly, whispering, “Evan, please… I just want to help you. I can’t help you if you keep fighting like this. You’re sick.” A low growl rumbled from his throat, a warning, but his hands didn’t move away from my skin. I had his attention again, but for how long? “Don’t you feel it? That thickness in your muscles, making you heavy and tired? It’s awful, I know, and I want to help you, but I can’t if you keep fighting me like this!”

            “I can’t, Ness.” The gravel of his voice grated on my heart, tugging at the hope I thought I could muster to feel. “I can’t stop.” I felt his hand tremble around my wrist, his fingers loosen ever so slightly that if maybe I pulled hard enough…

            I took a chance. In one, swift movement, my hand was free. I moved up to close my mouth around his neck and bite, giving myself just enough leverage that I could reach around and pull out that vile piece that had taken my Evan away from me. The man roared in shock more than pain, trying to rise to pry me free, but I held fast, tasting the sweat and grime of his skin on my tongue, but not blood. I wasn’t biting hard enough for that. I felt his hands close around me, grab at my shoulders, my hips, my hair, pulling with quickly weakening strength and resolve. His heart thudded harshly, pounding against his chest, bouncing the beating of my own heart until we had matched. My arms reached up, up, wrapping around the breadth of his shoulders, pulling him in as tightly as I could to my person, finally releasing my teeth from his flesh so I could whisper through a tight ball in my throat, “I’m so sorry… I had to…”

            A reaction at last. His head lifted up and turned slowly away from me, pausing to take in the surrounding cave, where we had come to situate ourselves on the ground with my body pulled into his lap, before he finally brought his mask-less face back into my neck. The discarded item dropped from his hand, instead choosing to fill the flesh of his palms with the heat my body managed to produce, touching my back, my shoulders, cradling the back of my head so he could drink me in. I let my fingers trail over the crest of his head, mimicking his own actions, biting back a sniffle that made my nose hurt. Just as much as he was reveling in my touch was I admiring his, not having realized just how starved for him I had become. I peppered his ear, his temple, trailing soft kisses until I could pull his face up just enough that I could rest my forehead to his.

            When I did, I could see it in his eyes. He was haunted, still very much fighting the affects of the putrid serum I still held in an ironclad grip. It reminded me of a boy after his first thunderstorm, frightened of what had just happened, absolutely lost as to what to do with himself now.

            Lost. That’s how Feng had described Herman, reflecting on the changes the serum had brought to him, how his body had rotted and decayed while he still lived in his dying flesh. As lost as Anna had been when first we saw her, hunting down a heartbroken Dwight, torn between sparing him and painting the dirt with his blood. As lost as I had felt, torn between the waking world of pain and agony, and the unconscious realm where dreams of needles and drugs plagued my nightmares. As lost as when we had first met and fell in deep with each other, suppressed emotions and sensations bubbling to the surface as a cruel reminder of what we couldn’t, shouldn’t, have in this realm under the Entity’s scrutiny.

            I thumbed his lower lip, offering up the softest of smiles I could hope to have, “Hey… It’s okay. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner.” He tried to pull his head away, keep me from looking into those honey-hazel depths I adored, but I was insistent. I leaned into his chest, using my weight as leverage to rise up and plant my lips on the bridge of his nose. “But I’m here now, right?” I felt rather than heard him take a deep breath, and with his exhale, his arms locked around me and held me so tenderly against his body. “I’m safe, and so are you.”

            “You were stupid,” He whispered, pressing his mouth to my collar, “So fucking stupid. I could’ve killed you.” Now I felt his teeth, grazing the tender flesh of my neck, his tongue hot as it tasted me. “I could’ve fucking crushed your god damned windpipe, Ness. I almost did.” His hand slid up my spine to cradle the back of my skull, holding me against him as I felt him move. No, stand. His other arm laced behind my legs, securing me to him, keeping me as close as he possibly could while he made the short distance into the depths of his cave to the familiar little campfire we had spent so much time beside. I didn’t get the chance to look around before his mouth was on mine, bidding me to melt into him, let myself be controlled by his wandering hands. “Ness… You were so stupidly fucking brave.”

            “I had to get you back.” I whispered to his lips, letting my fingers wrap around the straps of his overalls. “Even if you had killed me, I wouldn’t have stopped until I finally had you back.” Gently, I lowered my legs out of his grasp, my tip toes grazing the stones and pebbles that littered his dwelling. “Why don’t we get cleaned up? I know that I don’t smell all that great.”

            “I wasn’t going to say anything, but since you said it…” I gasped at Evan’s coy remark, playfully slapping his arm whilst he guided me with a gentle hand towards the pool of glistening water towards the very rear of his cave. “I can’t say that I don’t reek either. You step in first.” He began to turn away, intent to leave me to wash on my own, but… I reached a hand out, grabbing him by the ends of his fingers, squeezing them tightly with an unasked request that didn’t need to be voiced. He knew what I wanted, and he was more than happy to give it.

            There wasn’t much more talking after that; there wasn’t the air to. Our lips barely separated for more than a moment at a time, and the chill of the water was a welcoming feel to my flushed skin. Clothes had been left in a forgotten heap at the edge of the reservoir, in desperate need of a washing themselves but they were not our prime concern. We were too busy reveling in each other’s company, relishing our health and our cleaned skin, drinking in the heat and passion of our bodies pressed so closely together that we couldn’t tell who was where anymore. And even through it all, amidst the overflow of love that I couldn’t keep dammed up inside me anymore, I kept touching his face with both hands, bringing his eyes back to mine, making absolutely certain that it was him. I had to be sure that he was thoroughly conscious and with me. His thumb swiped under my eye, and for the first time, I actually saw his lips twitch into the warmest, sweetest smile a man had ever given me. That same mouth that had captured mine, the very same one that reassured me to his affections with sweet words and kindness and enlightened me to the vast knowledge he held, now warmed me from within with such a simple smile. All over again, I was reminded just how hard I had fallen for him.

            My Evan, my sweet, gentle Evan was back.


	29. Chapter 29

            “Evan? Evan, there’s something going on at the survivor camp.”

            “Shh, she’s still sleeping… Keep your voice down and tell me what’s going on.”

            Soft voices, spoken carefully quiet, drifted into my sleeping state and roused me from the dreamless rest I had achieved. It was easy for me to pick out the rumbling bass of Evan’s murmur, but I wasn’t quite sure about the other, lighter voice. Slowly, I was coming around, becoming blissfully aware of the soreness of my hips and the strange sensation of cleaned skin after having been dirty and sweaty for so long. I had forgotten what being clean felt like. I would need to remember to come around and ask to bathe in Evan’s reservoir more often, if I could ever get around to that in his presence. I kept my eyes closed, my body slack, wishing to sleep for maybe just a few moments more in the comfort of the firelight’s heat and Evan’s scent.

            “It’s the clouds, they’re black and red!” The lighter voice pressed, ignoring the previous warning to keep quiet. “The Entity’s pissed. Like, _pissed_. Evan, Its coming down to us!”

            My eyes snapped open.

            _The Entity was making Its move._

            So much for enjoying the moment any longer. I rose slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and pushing through my aching muscles, but I was already as awake as I could be. My heart was throbbing in my ribcage, my nerves firing off to get myself going, because it was time and I _needed_ to be there with the others. When I finally could see past the bleariness, I was rewarded with the knowledge that Evan had thought to cover me with a thin piece of fabric he must use as a blanket and had washed and hung my clothes to dry. He was really too good of a man to be real. How long had I been out for that he had time to do all that?

            Speaking of Evan, the man himself stood with his back to that same fire, arms crossed in perplexed thought, facing someone very much shadowed by his figure. Squinting, I could see that it was Susie, twisting her fingers around the cords of her hoodie in worried unease. She wasn’t looking him directly in the eye, but her mouth was quick to address him, “Me and Adiris have been hanging around there for like, a while now. Anna came by with Max and Junior after Vee headed out, and now almost everyone’s there. Something’s going on in the woods and now everyone’s showing up.”

            “You said everyone is there? Even the others?” This had Evan’s voice set to a gravelly mutter, his puzzlement growing to carefully calculated concern. Very deliberately, Susie nodded that yes, the other killers who weren’t in our fold were at the campfire too. Evan’s massive hand rose and scraped over his mask, “Shit… So, it’s something bad. Are the survivors in danger?” Slowly, not so sure now, Susie shook her head no.

            If the others were in possible danger… I chewed my lip, remembering how I had been helpless to watch Michael plunge his blade into Claudette’s chest so long ago. I couldn’t just stay here and let that happen again. I clutched the blanket close around my shoulders, rising to my feet to grab their attention while also trying to defend my dignity with the scrap of blanket wrapped tight to my person, “If the Entity is coming, then we should go.” They both fully turned to me now, with varying expressions of surprise and embarrassment. Evan’s eyes travelled up and down my scantily clad self, but he said nothing and allowed me to instead continue, “We should be there. It’s us who started this, and we have to be there when all is finished.” Susie’s eyes flicked from my undressed state to Evan, where all at once I watched curiosity, jealousy, and bewilderment dance in her expression. Oh, did she have a little crush on him? I puffed my chest a bit more, feeling a bit of pride that I could officially say that Evan was mine, though I had never thought to ask Susie if she had any interests in this place. “Just give me a moment and I’ll get dressed, then we can go.”

            “Are you sure you’re… y’know.” Evan rubbed the back of his neck, gesturing loosely with an open palm towards my hips. Immediately I felt the heat of last night rush to my cheeks. “You aren’t sore?” I didn’t need to see his face to know that he must be sharing the same ache and same blush in his strong cheeks. At least he had a mask to hide his expression behind.

            “Evan.” I began towards my clothes, casting a sultry side-eye his way, “I am sore, but you didn’t break me apart.” I bent for my clothes, being sure that the blanket only just covered my chest. All the while, I watched Evan swallow nervously, and the thought of leaving the cave began to drift further and further from my mind. “Thank you for washing my clothes. I was going to get around to it eventually.” Evan lightly shrugged his shoulders in an “aw, shucks” manner. “Y’know, if we didn’t have an Entity to deal with…”

            “Alright, lovebirds, hurry it up.” Susie was turning straight for the cave entrance again, loudly announcing her departure to break off my sentence. I could see a curious Danny peeking in with a coy, giggling hand over the mouth of his mask from just beyond the firelight’s reach as Susie quickly passed by him. “We have a Deity to deal with.”

            Susie was right. There was no time to flirt. The Entity was appearing before all of us, killers stalked in the survivor camp, and we needed to be there when everything unfolded. I just hoped to whatever other Gods watched this place that the Entity would not take casualties.

*-*-*

            It wasn’t until we were walking that I realized just how sore I was. I felt it all through my arms, my legs, my hips, but I wrote it off as not having been in practice. There wasn’t exactly a way to practice being intimate here in this Realm, where everyone shared the same space at practically all times. And even before being sucked into this place, Trevor had never held me as tightly as Evan did, but neither had he cared as much. Even now, as we walked through the dark woods, hand in hand with fingers tightly interlaced so the shadows that leapt from branch to branch couldn’t separate us, he was especially careful to keep from getting too far ahead. I tried to reason that I felt pain in my chest because of worry, that the cuts I thought were in my skin were just from the branches scraping and caressing me as we passed through them. Evan paused once when he got a few paces ahead of me, with his head turned in an unasked question, but I insisted we keep going, pushing down the nagging feeling that this pain was something else entirely.

I could begin to see the sky, an eerie coal black aflame with red lightning and the rage of the monstrous being that kept us here. The treetops swayed and shook, smoking with the heat of Its anger, burning the bark so that the smoldering coals dripped down to us in hardened rain drops. Barely, just barely, the dancing light of the survivors’ campfire could be seen weaving through the leaves and brush that grew along the border of the clearing. My feet moved faster, and now I was the one who was getting ahead of him. I had to get to my friends before It did.

            We broke through the tree line, stepping into the light and the crowd. The survivors had clustered themselves close to the pitiful fire that had begun to die, flickering and weak with the smothering it was getting from the heavy pressure of air and fear that hung in the air. In a tight ring around the survivors were the killers that we had come to trust, weapons held in tight grips and eyes blazing red towards their Master. Some had even brought their spare weaponry, seen in the hands of the survivors they were trying to protect. At the heart of the killers’ collection, Anna stood with her broad axe especially sharpened and coated with a thick helping of poison, dripping an eerie green down the solid oak handle. At either side of her were Max and Junior, clutching their chainsaws so tightly, their knuckles were white. They had to be scared and confused, but if Anna was ready to battle, then so were they. And lastly, Herman stood with a nailed bat ready to swing and the Wraith lurched with his sharpest blade, hooked at the end to yank his victim whichever way he needed.

            But more of a surprise were the killers that we hadn’t come to trust, and the first men to enter this place and be hunted by those here. Michael stood by, kitchen knife in hand, watching the survivors with a deadpan quiet, before turning those same bloodthirsty eyes to the rolling sky. In similar form, Vigo and Benedict slinked along the clearing’s edge, hands clutched tightly together, inspecting all who stood or prowled in their sights while also keeping a careful, concerned eye at their Master’s toil. And then there was Freddy, idling by with itching claws, waiting, watching to see who he could sink his claws into. I couldn’t trust that the gathering of the untrustworthy were here to assist us, but I had enough stupidity in me to hope that maybe they were.

            Susie broke away from us to rush to her comrades, accepted quickly back into their ranks and given a razor-sharp knife and her iconic stitched mask. I squeezed Evan’s hand tightly, taking in a slow breath, trying to quiet the beating of my heart as it pounded in my ears, but I could not stifle it. It was time, everyone was here, and the fate of this realm rested on my shoulders. One wrong move, one wrong step, and it was over for everyone. My feet moved to close the distance between myself and my friends, that small space that must only span six yards, but the space seemed so ominously giant in the presence of such lurking danger.

            Here It came.

            A spiral of dust and debris rose from beneath our feet, striking our skin and faces while rising into the air to meet the column of cloud spinning wickedly in on itself, round and round, sucking in the air and exuding an enormous amount of eerie pressure. My ears felt like they would burst, the pain growing as that spiraling column made Its way down, down, crashing into the dirt with a puff of air and a wretched howl of wind and undying screams. No one moved; no one dared to. The only shared idea that everyone had was that this wailing tornado was the Entity, finally stepping amongst Its subjects, and we were to hear Its decree or suffer the consequences of whatever crime we had committed, in this word or the last one we came from.

            I felt a pain in my chest, of a bone breaking. The Entity’s talons had risen in spikes from where it had touched down, spreading across in a wide radius, reaching up to pierce what they could sink into. The trees, the log seating, the survivors and even the killers themselves. I felt one such talon strike itself into my front, breaking my clavicle as it pushed to pierce all the way through me, but I yanked myself free from it before I could succumb to the death it sought. Even Evan had fallen victim, those same vicious claws grabbing at his flesh, at the metal that jutted from his being, tormenting him and bringing him down to his knees. I couldn’t get to him; a wall of those same sickening death claws hurling themselves up to form a wall between us.

            The clearing was in chaos. Just as It wanted. Sickening laughter bubbled from the heart of the tornado, lightning crackling and forming two wickedly crimson eyes. It produced first one large paw, then another, sinking Its claws into the dirt below to pull the rest of Itself from the heart of Its creation, boney skull coming first before the rest of Its black-as-night body followed. Had the situation been different, I would describe It as reverent, beautiful, but I knew of the sickening deeds It praised Itself for. Disgusting, vile acts that hurt my friends, my fellows, and the killers that had been already forced to raise their hands to us. The Reaper loped to the bulk of bodies that had come to tighten their circle, tilting Its head to one side as It cooed, “ _Look at you lot… frightened, weak, pathetic. How you managed to disobey me is a mystery, isn’t it?_ ”

            This was the first time many of them had seen the Entity in some form other than a crow, let alone hear it form actual words other than groan and howl in the distance. They were all shell shocked, frozen in place as that same being lurked ever closer, pushing through the outer barrier of killers to squeeze into the ranks of the bloodied survivors within. Its long maw opened, and a slithering black tongue reached towards Nea, the closest to It, “ _You have all been so_ diligent _in your Trials… Or have you? Hopping fences, breaking the generators beyond repair,_ befriending _your hunters. It disrupts the balance, doesn’t it?_ ” Nea’s eyes shut against the Entity’s touch, prompting the being closer, “ _It’s a change we can do without, isn’t it? Being chummy with the people who would turn around and kill you in a heartbeat. That makes no sense, does it?_ ”

            “It doesn’t.” Nea whispered, her eyes still shut.

            “Get off of her,” My voice was no louder than a croak. My throat felt raw, my voice hardly mine.

            “ _That’s a good girl._ ” The Entity hadn’t heard me, or if It did, It chose to ignore me altogether. “ _What should we do instead, my dear Nea? Tell me, where do we all belong?_ ”

            Nea didn’t answer immediately. I could see her shaking even from where I still stood fixed beside Evan. I thought I saw blood dripping from her hands, her nails most likely piercing the flesh of her palms. The Entity must have noticed, too. Its head bowed to inspect her fists, lap at the red rivers coating her knuckles with a sickening twitch of Its tongue. “ _Where do we belong, Nea?_ ”

            “Leave her alone!” I tried my voice again, louder but still not enough. I took a few steps towards them, dodging the rise of several more hungry talons, before being forced to stop altogether by the appearance of Anna, who had broken away from the other killers to plant her hand heavily on my aching chest. She wasn’t looking at me, but merely watching on with a grim expression.

            Again, the Entity kept pressing, slinking between Nea and Jane to wrap Its long, wispy tail around Nea’s shoulders in a mock-embrace, the very tip of the liquid tendril stroking the top of her head. Its tongue hung from Its still open maw, dripping with the blood consumed from Nea’s fists. “ _Where do we belong?_ ” Its voice was booming now, threatening for an answer.

            “We don’t.”

            “ _You’re right. We don’t._ ” It grinned wickedly as It loosened Its grip on her, moving through the survivors until It slid back into the openness of the clearing and out of the crowd. Only now did Its eyes come to find me, blazing with hatred as It began to close the miniscule distance between myself and the true predator. “ _You lot don’t belong together. Not in my Realm, and not back there where I plucked you from. I gave you lot new life, a new reason to keep moving, and this is how you repay me? By_ rebelling _and breaking the things I so carefully prepared for you? I give you a campfire to call home, medical kits and toolboxes to aid in your Trials, and to you killers I give you the means to hunt your quarry. And all but two of you disobeyed me._ ”

            “I wasn’t done, fuckface.” Nea’s voice was surprisingly sharp. What shocked me more was that she actually looked genuinely pissed, and full of whatever spite that she had suppressed. It was amazing that she’d even had enough anger in her to push herself to snap. The Entity’s head slowly turned from me to her, interested to hear what she had to say, “Yeah, we don’t belong. Not together, no. We don’t fucking belong here. ‘Plucked’ us from our old lives, gave us ‘new life.’ Yeah, shove that idea right back up your fucking ass.” She pushed through the wall of killers, but stood no more than a foot away from it. After all, the ground was a landmine of spikes thirsting for blood, and the Entity was easily four times Evan’s size. She was brave, but not stupid. “You didn’t save us, if that’s what you’re thinking. If anything, I think you killed us so you could play with us in your own little fucking playground.”

            Oh. That made sense. All eyes were turned on the Entity now, with varying degrees of anger and pain, searching for the answer to the question they all were asking. How _did_ they get here? Once again, I felt phantom pains, cuts that made my flesh gap open and let my blood flow down my skin. But now… I thought I could see the flash of red and blue lights as paramedics began to make their way towards me, thought I could see the white heat of an uncontrollable flame. I died that day, I know it. Did the Entity really cause that truck to hit me?

            “You killed us.” Nea repeated, savoring the words before spitting them at the creature that now bristled with an array of black and red quills. “For your own entertainment, you killed us, ripped us away from people that loved us, people that _cared_ about us, just to play your sick fucking game. I had people who loved me. I was finally settling into this new fucking American life, just to be ripped away from normality again by your sick fucking idea of ‘fun.’” The Entity was taking slow step towards her, haunches bunched, crackling with the light of Its rage, but she was bristling just as much. And now, she was backed by the very creatures it had entrapped in this world, survivors and killers side by side, armed with an array of weapons that It had created for Its predators. “You killed us!”

            “ _And now you want to go back?_ ” Venom dripped from Its words, Its effluvial body rising until It stood taller even than the trees that towered around us. Its mighty antlers branched across the sky, reaching for the clouds, calling to the lightning show that still flickered and cracked overhead to arc and crest from each point of Its mighty rack. “ _Go back to what? Living on the streets with nothing but your skateboard? Go back to a family that doesn’t want you?_ ” Its head swung to address Jake, who had taken up a fighting stance at Nea’s side. Then, It turned glowing rubies towards me with a cold fury, “ _Go back to a man who’d rather drug you up and leave you for a pretentious slut?_ ” The sting of it hurt worse than any injury It could have done to me, but I bit my tongue rather than lash back. “ _None of you have anything to go back to. No family, no friends, and no legacy to leave behind._ ”

            “That’s why we want to go back.” Feng Min took her place on Nea’s other side, arms folded over her chest. “You took us away from our lives before we could do anything with them. Maybe we weren’t wanted, sure, but so what? Surely there had to have been _someone_ out there, and you took us away before we could find them.”

            “I was wanted,” I felt my own anger bubbling in my chest, enflaming the edges of my memory fragments, filled with images of my parents, hand in hand, of my friends who cheered me on through my work. “And even if I wasn’t wanted, I still want to go back. My life ended way too soon to say that I didn’t do anything worth remembering. I didn’t even have the chance to.” I remembered the joy I had when I was handed the keys to my studio, the keys to my apartment, the pride I had been filled with when I saw my paintings proudly displayed in local businesses. “I want to go back, even if there’s nothing to go back to.”

            “As do we.” Anna growled, taking up a stance beside me. To be defended by her, rather than attacked, filled me with a sort of awe that someone so powerful felt that I was worth protecting. Even now, surrounded by deadly instruments and Death Itself walking on four heavily clawed paws, she continued to seethe, “We know we were not wanted, but that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a life back there. We are not monsters, as you have intended us to be. You’ve kept us here long enough.”

I hadn’t been naïve to believe that they all wanted what I did, but hearing her voice the same desire that I had held in my heart reminded me why I started this fight. They all genuinely believed they weren’t wanted, weren’t loved, but that was okay. They still wanted to go back. They were _human_ , with lives I couldn’t begin to imagine, with wants and desires and a flurry of emotions that displayed themselves here to the being that captured them. These men and women who held blades in white-knuckled grips, could write pages upon pages of their lives and lament on their woes, but they were willing to go back even if there wasn’t anything there waiting for them. It was hard to say of Michael and Freddy, but perhaps they’d be happier out there than trapped in a little box, killing the same people over and over again. Surely behaving like some feral pet couldn’t be satisfying for the two of them.

            And it wasn’t satisfying for the Entity either, it seemed. It started low, soft, a bubble of sound and chime of bells, growing louder until a full-blown cackle erupted heartily from the maw of the beast. It lifted a set of claws over Its chest in mock amusement, snorting, “ _I’ve kept you here long enough, have I? How much time do you think has passed out there, in the Waking Realm?_ ” It landed heavily back onto all fours and approached, slowly, teeth bared in a snarling grin, “ _Because I don’t think you understand. No time has passed. For any of you. You’re here in my Realm now, and once I’m done with you, I’ll spit you back out into the pathetic situation I pulled you from. How’s that for compromise?_ ”

            “We all want out. Now.” I spoke firmly, squeezing my hands into fists.

            _No._

The voices were everywhere, swirling through the trees, rising up with the surge of power the Entity was exuding. Around and around, the voices hollered and called over each other, repeating that same ominous word to the treetops and boiling sky. The Entity had had enough of our games, and was preparing to take action. Its head raised high, once more collecting the crimson bolts from the clouds above, maw open in a silent howl… But in that surge, I could just barely, just faintly, catch a glimmer of something within that massive body that was the Entity taken form. It looked like a star, a piece of material or dust, something otherworldly at the very heart of the magnificently dangerous creature.

            _You will not get out. I cannot send you out. You all have not been doing your Trials, have not been paying your dues for mistreating your fellows. You have not paid the blood debt you owe._

Its attention wasn’t focused on any one person now. Thick talons of ire were jutting from the ground, reaching, grabbing at anything that dare go near any of the deadly spicules. I was surprised to find Michael striding his way towards the survivors, quick-paced with intent that I had only seen in the Trial I was forced to spectate, and before I could say anything, he had taken a stance in front of Laurie, holding up an arm as another thick spike reached forth. It sunk deep into his arm, bloodying the fabric there, but he kicked it away and pulled his arm back to fend off yet another thirsting ridge that snaked towards his sister. Even the “Entity’s Pet,” as we had come to term Michael, was done with this place. This act of defiance enraged the Entity, fierce and hollow howls shrieking with the wind, ripping the boughs off the trees and lashing at our faces. The trees creaked and moaned, bending further than they should as their roots lifted from the seething, boiling ground.

            _I will get the blood you owe, if it means I must take it myself from your corpses!_

There it was, that same glimmering, sparkling light deep within the tufts of fur that coated Its sleek body. No, the body wasn’t real. It was an illusion, a trick of the eye, made by Its heart to persuade onlookers that It was some unholy, unstoppable beast. I could barely make out the shape of a dancing white flame inside. Refractions of the glow sparkled in the fur, giving It the appearance of a night sky, dark and deadly as It leapt and tore through my comrades, through the minefield of spikes, made a sharp turn to reach sickly claws towards my throat.

            I barely ducked in time to avoid Its reach, but I still was met with the blunt force of Its chilling essence colliding into my chest. I felt frozen to my core, my skin burning with the quick onset of frostbite, but I had to push through it. I reached into It, my fingers guided only by the white flame of Its heart, barely able to keep my breath from freezing in my chest when I nipped one licking tendril of Its soul with my fingertips.

            The shriek that followed was agonizing. Blood dribbled from my ear drums, coating my jaw line as It howled and coiled in on Itself, then launched away from me as fast as It could. I had barely managed to touch It, but It had been left reeling by my touch. However, Its brief reprieve was not enough to stop It. The Entity had gone mad with rage, It’s eyes filled with the same red light It gifted to Its killers, but bleeding now over the ridges and crannies of Its skull. The Ultimate Predator, lurching towards Its next meal, Its white-cold heart flaring with Its internal light. If I could catch that light, crush it in my hands, would that be the end of It? Would the world collapse in on itself, and would we succumb with it?

            There wasn’t much time left.

            The being leapt again, claws outstretched, only this time, Evan tried to bash it away with a heavy swing of his machete. Its form shimmered for a moment, weakening, exposing that white light like a beacon to Its heart. And I saw in those red depths It called for eyes that It knew; I had figured out Its weakness, and It knew that. But It had come to the realization too late. It was already in motion, coming down on my braced posture, mouth open wide in a wicked cry. I felt those teeth surround me, sucking me into Its icy cavity, and I reached deep to grasp that flickering white flame that burned in this coldness.

            _“Vanessa!”_

_I was hearing voices, but not of my comrades. Not of the killers, not of Evan, not the haunting sound of the Entity’s either. They were voices I didn’t know, dulled by a ringing in my ear, or was that the rev of a sputtering engine? It was pitch black, and I couldn’t see anything, not even my broken hands or the grass that had been painted with my blood. And then a flash, then another, red and blue lighting up, fighting for sky space. I could see the cold white light of a flashlight, bobbing closer, lighting up my face._

_The shadow came closer still, reaching for me-_

“Vanessa! Vanessa, come on, hey!” I was being shaken by the shoulders. My eyes opened, barely focusing on Evan’s face just inches in front of mine. I felt something cold wriggling in my hands, but I was still holding tight to It even though It burned my palms. I couldn’t let go. “Holy fuck, what were you doing? Are you fucking stupid? Do you have a fucking death wish?” My gaze strayed away from him, trying to piece together where I was, and what I was doing, but his insistent shaking brought me back to him.

            What had I just seen? I looked down at my hands, where there was a glow cracking between my fingers-

            _I looked down at my hands, inspected the exposed tendons and bones, the white of my bloodless knuckles. I felt numb and cold, the feel of it focused in my ruined hands, leaking up my arms to my chest, to my beating heart that struggled to keep pace amongst the adrenaline and the sweet kiss of death. Was I dying? The shadow still crouched beside me, joined by another, inspecting from a careful distance until they could be sure I was living._

_I was lifted-_

“Hey, hey, stay here, stay with us,” Evan whispered, holding me up against his chest, stroking my face with his thumb. “Come on, stay awake.” His lips grazed my cheeks, my nose, my cold lips. He was so warm, so comforting. I wanted to stay. But I was beginning to piece together what I was seeing. I looked down at my hands, still clutched around the Entity’s flame, flickering with that same translucence that had coated the heart of the beast. I brought It closer to my chest, shivering as I pressed my mouth to my disappearing fingers. I was feeling so cold-

            _It was so cold._

“Ness?”

            _I felt so cold._

_“Vanessa! Hey, come on, stay here, stay with us.” Evan? No, not Evan. The shadow was a large man, but it was not my Evan. He wore a thick yellow suit, heavily geared with thick, flame retardant gloves. I could barely make out the name printed over his heart, but I didn’t care to read it. Everything was so cold, but this man was warm as he and another I hadn’t seen carried me on a gurney past the wreckage that remained of my car-_

“Vanessa?” The others were beside me now, someone’s hands overlapping mine. Reflexively, I pulled away, clutching at the Entity’s heart, trying to focus my gaze on their face. Feng’s frown wasn’t a comfort, unfocused still, but it was enough that I found I wanted to be rid of the flame in my hands, be rid of the telltale visions that told a story I didn’t want to see the end to. I held my hands back out to her, prompting her to open her palms to accept It. Slowly, the flame trickled from my hands to hers, puddling in a heap of white tongues in her long fingers. “This is the Entity?”

            “Yeah,” I croaked. Free of the cold, I clutched my hands to my chest, trying to flatten my palms to the beating of my skipping heart. Evan’s hand covered mine, enveloping me with his warmth, and I wanted to sink into him. My eyes floated closed, I took a slow breath, “That’s the Entity. It isn’t much when It’s not hiding behind something.”

            “It’s cold,” Feng murmured. I heard some movement, the clunk of a jar opening and then closing. “We’ll keep It in here. If It dies, then I’m sure we’ll die with It… but in here It can’t hurt us anymore… right?”

            “ _I still control your world, even though you put me in this thing._ ” The Entity’s hollow voice sounded so small now, just one voice instead of the millions it usually used. “ _Did you think capturing me would send you back? Foolish children, the lot of you._ ”

            I still felt cold.

            “Yeah, but in here, you’re not as much of a threat.” Feng growled back, and I heard her flick the glass with her finger. “If you want out, you’ll have to listen to what we have to say. We don’t have a lot of demands, other than going back. But we can’t go back, can we?”

            “ _…no. I cannot send you back._ ”

            My body ached with the chill. I couldn’t warm up, couldn’t move. I could barely hear the others.

            I felt Evan move, take a few paces in some direction, and I felt the heat of a fire. I cracked my eyes open; I could see the flames, licking at the coals-

            _I could see the flames, licking, eating the metal contraption that had been my car. It was completely crushed, and I had to wonder how I got from the driver’s seat to the grassy ditch just off the road. My lungs hurt every time I tried to breath, I felt something hot roll down my chin with each aching breath. I pressed my wrist to my chest, barely feeling the shard of glass that was implanted there, bleeding and soaking my shirt through with slick, sticky wetness. How deep did it go? I moaned, trying to get the firemen’s attention, trying to speak through the pain that it was there, but I couldn’t manage it. My tongue felt like a wad of cotton had been shoved into my mouth._

_I closed my eyes against the pain, felt the fuzzy feeling of unconsciousness close in on my mind._

“Ness, come on, keep your eyes open.” Evan’s voice was right by my ear. I whimpered, feeling the phantom aches and pains, noting just how real it felt. I wiggled in his hold, gasped at the sudden sharp pain piercing through my chest, and I knew. The Entity could not send us back, no… but it was never my time to come here. I was not supposed to be here at all.

            These visions, these pains. I was waking up there.

            I didn’t have much time left until I would be there and gone from this world. I did my best to sit up in Evan’s lap, holding on as tightly as I could to the straps of his overalls. His hands wrapped around my hips, steadying me, bringing me even closer now to his barrel chest. I could feel him breathing, feel his heartbeat, and it hurt. I had fallen so hard for this man, and we had finally reached a point where we wouldn’t have to sneak about with our affections, and now I had to go, and it hurt. My breath shuddered as a sob broke from me, tears welling and falling down my face, inconsolable to the truth that I had to leave him.

            He didn’t understand. His hands moved to my face, wiping my tears, whispering that I would be okay, that I would feel better soon, but he didn’t understand. I couldn’t even begin to form the words through my thickened tongue. I tried so hard to clutch at him, pull him as tight as I could to me, revel in his warmth for as long as I could before I would eventually, finally wake up over there. I couldn’t fathom the depths of my desire, that I could actually want to stay in this realm only if it meant staying with him, but I had to go back. There was no choice.

            _“Come on, stay with us. You’re going to be okay, you’ll feel better soon. Keep your eyes open. Can you tell us your name?” The gurney jostled around with my weight, the two men careful to keep me out of range of the burning vehicle as we closed in on the source of the flashing lights. Everything was blindingly white, smelled noxiously sterile, and I felt hands begin to replace the warmth of the other Realm with the chill of medical equipment. They were tying me to this waking world, to reality, and it was time I let the other world go._

_I’m so cold. I’m so tired._

            I brought him in for one last final kiss, just as my world plunged into the dark and cold of the unknown.


	30. Epilogue

            She was gone.

            Vanessa’s body faded away in my hands, the last remnant of her kiss cool on my lips as the rest of her twinkled like embers towards the sky above. The clouds had dissipated into the constant yellow sky that had become a staple in this realm, with only wisps of the darkness that had emerged when the Entity did, and the rest of the aftermath had been cleared away as soon as Vanessa had stolen the icy heart of our Master. She had looked like a ghost, glowing, pale white like the snow that fell at Mount Ormond, and in any other circumstance I would have described her as angelic. But when I saw her eyes, those beautiful grey eyes replaced with the cold blackness the Entity lived in, I shared the chill that had seized her. I had barely reached her in time to catch her as she fall in a frozen heap, shaking so much that I couldn’t be sure if she would survive it. She had been so much like a corpse in my arms, so absolutely cold and unmoving in my arms, that I feared she was already gone before I could get the chance to save her.

            I shouldn’t have been afraid that I would lose her that way. I should have held her tighter to me, begged her to stay, but how was I to know that she would go back after all of this?

            My hands fell to my lap, cold. Empty. The clearing felt empty without her here. How could I have known that she would leave me so soon after changing our world? Changing my world? My hands, the same ones that had killed and held the blade that would torture her friends, had been the same ones that she held and pulled along with a smile on her face. They were the same hands that caressed her cheeks, relished in the feel of her skin on mine even after they had just been washed and cleansed of the blood of her friends that she was fighting so hard for. She reminded me of who I had been before I came here and inspired me to who I could be. She made me feel like someone else, someone better, and I wanted to be better for her. I wanted to see the laughter and life dancing in her grey hues, and I wanted to be the source of it. Now that she was gone, what do I do?

            What do I do?

            Out of the corner of my eye, I could see shape and color approaching me. I hoped they weren’t in search of me, for I did not want to be found, but I was a giant among ants in this camp and I could not hide from the eyes that sought my counsel, “Where did she go?” Feng Min had been busy speaking with the Entity, who had been caught and was now held captive in a little mason jar once It had been taken from Vanessa’s cold fingers. She turned now to take a final survey of the clearing, only to find that they were one person short, with the last person to have been with her now without her. Alone. Arms empty. Feng closed most of the space between us in a few careful strides, though stopping just short of arms’ reach. “Tr… Evan, where did she go?”

            Where did she go? What do I do?

There was nothing I could do. The reality crashed upon my shoulders, burned in my veins and pounded in my skull. She was gone, and there was nothing I could do to bring her back. I could feel my jaw clench, grinding my teeth as I struggled to finally admit, “She’s gone.” The fire received my confession rather than her, only just managing to make the words sound anything less than strained. It was hard to speak around the lump in my throat. Her feet shuffled, and she was beside me now on the log, hesitating to touch my arm. Her hand was different. Small, cold, surprisingly rough in texture.

            “What do you mean, she’s gone? She can’t just… disappear…” She looked again at the jar in her other hand, then at the fire that had my attention. “She looked ready to pass out, and everyone of interest is here in the clearing. There’s no way she went…” Her words trailed off when I finally raised my head to really, truly look at her. My eyes locked on to hers, trying to relay the words that I couldn’t muster. The others had come to listen too; I couldn’t see them, only felt their presence as they clustered in closer, wanting to know, wanting to see what the fuss was about. “You mean… she’s gone? Not dead, but _gone_? How?” At this, I shook my head, raising my palms to my face to rub away the frustration. I couldn’t begin to really piece the words together to form any sort of explanation, for her benefit or for mine. “Do you think… she went back?”

            “ _I never did have a true hold on her, when I brought her here._ ” The Entity’s voice caught me off-guard, but It was more than welcome to answer the questions that I couldn’t. Its hollow voice echoed from within the jar, the sound small as it sputtered with the undulation of Its movements. Feng lifted the jar up, her eyes narrowing into a glare at the flickering white flame within, but It twisted and spun inside, shaping Itself into the silhouette of the girl in question. “ _Maybe due to the fact I hadn’t been sure if she was dead yet… It was quite the scene, where I pulled her from. Her car was a mangled mess. The chance of her surviving was slim… What a nuisance._ ” The being within feigned falling over with a hand to Its forehead, crumpling to the bottom of the jar. Then, It sat up, heaving Its shoulders in a sigh, “ _Though I admit, she was much smarter than the rest of you. Pissed me off at times._ ” It once again reshaped Itself into the star-shape that It preferred, a small object that could easily be hidden in a bigger shape that It could produce, “ _You won’t miss her. She wasn’t nearly as proficient at completing generators or running around._ ”

            “You don’t understand humans, do you?” Feng growled quietly, holding It now in her lap as she resumed her attention on me, “I’m… I’m sorry, Evan. I can’t imagine how you must feel right now.” The hand that still rest on my arm squeezed, ever so lightly, before its presence was gone altogether. “But… is it really so bad she went back? I’d say she’s lucky… She’s not here in the Realm anymore. Right?”

            “Yeah…” I could barely croak the word. Vanessa wasn’t here anymore. She wouldn’t have to suffer under our blades, wouldn’t have to suffer the Entity’s might. But then, she had changed that so none of us would have to suffer anymore. She didn’t have to go back, right? Did she choose to go back? My heart ached, and I felt so heavy. I didn’t utter another syllable as I passed the others, noting the quiet confusion that transferred from one face to another, wondering where their friend had gone. Even the killers seemed to be amiss, Susie’s distraught cries stifled against the jacket of her comrade Frank. But the news was there; anyone could go back in a moment’s notice, if it was their time. I thought I saw Anna hold Junior and Max a little closer, but I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t care enough to stay in her domain any longer.

*-*-*

            There are moments, as I fiddle my keys in my hands to unlock the doors to my studio, when I wonder about the night of my crash. I often wonder how long I had laid there in the dark, coated in bloody glass fragments and creeping shadows. The EMTs I had spoken with said three hours or so, the truck driver that had hit me said maybe six, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe them. I would think harder, going back to that night, retracing my steps out the door of my old house and down the road, all the way up to the point those headlights filled my sights and the world cut to black. That’s when I would begin to see images that I wasn’t sure were dreams or reality. I remember glimpses of another world, foreign, dark, dangerous, filled with carnivorous spires and bloodthirsty beasts. And in that bladed darkness, hope and light and love, a closely-knit circle of folk who were all in the same unfortunate circumstance, working to survive against the all-powerful being that held them there. There were others, who were much bigger, much stronger, much more capable than them in order to catch them. But they instead rebelled, standing alongside their prey to not hunt, but to protect them. And I was there too, hand in hand with a man that I had come to love from that outcasted assembly. It had to be a dream, I was sure of that… but it all felt so real.

            These people I had never met came to my studio in the bottles of paints and in the bristles of my brushes. Colors, landscapes, faces I had never seen before, but I knew them so well. A girl with a stitched together mask, holding onto her wrist with a gloved hand while she stood in an idly shy position, lit only by the grey light of the snow-heavy sky. A man so tall, so much like a tree, coated in paints and ashes that had been drawn onto his skin with great care. He was angry at the world he was in, angry at this undeserved fate, but he could somehow find comfort in the arms of a small woman who was just as spiteful but made enough room in her heart for him. Another pair of men who were often seen together, a skull bandana draped over the smaller one’s face as he stood with his back to a well-built man in clinical garb. Though thinking back, the smaller man wasn’t much of a man; he seemed more like a boy just barely grown into adulthood, and something nagged in the back of my mind of an image that begged to be painted of him and this larger doctor, but the studio was a family-friendly place and I promised not to paint such things.

As fun as painting the myriad of characters that came to mind whenever I thought back, my biggest muse was the biggest man of them all. Thick coils of muscles, metal hooks and shrapnel piercing through his body, a thin mask that covered his face and gave him a wicked, snaggle toothed grin overtop the grim set of his jaw. He looked fierce, menacing, backlit by flames that silhouetted his meaty frame and lit up the welts and scars that covered him from head to toe. But most importantly, his eyes were the biggest attraction that I always spent hours on to get just right. Behind the mask, behind that rough exterior, I was so careful to paint what I remember seeing in them; comfort, softness, a gentle nature that could be brought out of him at the easiest beckoning. Those hazel eyes, warm as a sunlit forest, held so much knowledge and wisdom, and I wished I could ask what he knew that I didn’t.

            I could never hope to paint him right. I tried countless postures, positions, different paints and canvases, tried watercolors and oil paints and finally tried to sculpt him, but nothing worked. He escaped my grasp, escaped my artistic abilities, and I couldn’t help but feel heartbroken that I couldn’t reach him in this way. I felt like a piece of me was missing if I couldn’t manage to capture him just right, this figment of my imagination that flitted and escaped from me at the merest thought. What was I missing? I tried to mix the pigments again, matching the green of his overalls, the browns and tans that muddied together to color his skin, the cool creamy color of the bone mask, but still something was missing. I knew this man, what was I missing?

            “Miss O’Malley? Someone’s here to see you.” The receptionist of the studio, a plump little lady who often wore her dark coils of hair up in a tight bun, knocked lightly on my door. I pulled myself out of my teary reverie to turn and face her, noting the curious look she cast around my studio from over the lens of her glasses. “Says he wants to talk to you about something.”

            “Who is it?” I raised a brow, waving my hand that she may allow the man entry. Abiding, the door opened wider and a scruffy, dark-haired man with bags under his coal black eyes stuck his head in. He slinked past the woman with cat-like grace, dusty boots stepping carefully onto the paint-stained concrete below our feet. When our eyes met, I felt my heart stop and my blood chill, not sure who this was but knowing all too well exactly who he was. I had seen him there, with the others. I had seen the needle he filled with a vile, putrid liquid. I had seen the notes he made about everyone there, had seen him and his colleague poison the man that I had struggled to protect.

            _Benedict Baker_.

            That’s right. Benedict was his name. So, then… “It wasn’t a dream.” My thoughts came to my lips in a half whisper.

            “No, it wasn’t.” Benedict shut the door behind him just after the receptionist turned away, closing me into the room so that there was no escape. He was the truth of that night, the answers that I sought, and it terrified me. I did a slow turn away from him, all of a sudden feeling as though my work, my paints, the people they portrayed all had their eyes on me. How dare I forget them? I felt chilled to think that I had been painting actual people, when Benedict brought me back to the present and out of my head, “Did you think it was a dream?”

            It wasn’t a dream. These people, these paintings of faces I thought I didn’t know, this man that touched my heart… “I thought that maybe I had hallucinated.” My voice wobbled, still not believing him or myself. I couldn’t make sense of any of it. The faces, the people, the journey we took together that I had completely forgotten. “The doctors say that when something… traumatizing happens, we try to put ourselves somewhere else. Out of the body. I thought that maybe that’s what happened when I went there.”

Benedict watched me, silent, then made a deliberate action of nodding at a large painting that sat on one of the many easels in the room, “Evan is very much real.” My eyes followed the gesture, landing on the canvas that portrayed the muscled man in a backlit silhouette. Evan. That was his name. “As is Susie, and Joe, and Herman.” One by one, he made a point of wagging his finger between my paintings, at first the girl with the stitched mask, then the side by side men on another portrait-style canvas. “You knew them all very well, much better than I could hope to. Which brings me to why I’m here.”

            I brought myself back around again, to where he had perched on a stool by the door with his hands clasped in his lap. He made sure I was watching before making one, slow gesture to the door with his hand, and the window in the oak turned a deep, dark black. I swallowed, barely finding my voice, “… are you here to take me back?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to follow him beyond that door. Going back wouldn’t be the worst thing, but… in the several months that had passed since the accident, working through pain to get my hands back to where I could use them, bearing the scars of millions of shards of glass and flame that had licked my skin, I had finally got myself to a better place. I ditched Trevor, ditched that sparse lifestyle, and finally took up my parents on their offer. I was happier now than I was then, so much happier, even with the piece of memory missing from my time in the Realm. Happier… but something was still missing in my heart.

            “Only if you want to. Not as a survivor, but as a servant of the Entity.” He kept his voice even, his attention straying from my face to instead inspect a sketch that I had taped to the wall beside the door frame. He rolled his eyes at the likeness of Evan he found there, then cast a sideways look in my direction, “It does not know how to keep everyone happy, but It is willing to try if it means being fed. I have spent too long serving It to know how to make anyone happy anymore.”

            Could I go back? Could I leave my life, my work, my family, all of that behind in pursuit of some greater cause? I had always been scared of what comes next, whether I would amount to anything or not, but given the chance to not have to worry about who I could be, who I could amount to… the temptation was great. Go back to Evan, be by his side and be happy, or stay here and hope to capture his likeness in my paintings, struggling by the day as the memory fades until I eventually forget him. My eyes turned to the canvas, my fingers reaching out to touch the tacky acrylic that colored his likeness on the fabric, touch his cold cheek with my fingertips and trace his set jawline.

            “Do you have an answer?” Benedict watched me carefully, gloved hands folded in his lap once more. I felt the chill emanating from the door, knew the darkness that had settled beyond so that when it opened, the Realm would be there. This was my only chance; should I stay, or should I go?

            The answer I came to was not a hard one to reach.

*-*-*

            Several Trials had passed since Vanessa had left. My fellow survivors and I had adjusted well enough after she had gone; we had been seventeen before her, and now we were nineteen. In losing her, the Entity had brought us two more survivors, Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler. They were quite the pair, and quite knowledgeable on monsters already. They kept each other out of trouble and assisted the rest of us where they could. It was refreshing to have new survivors know what they were doing when they landed here.

            As for me, well… I still helped Dwight lead our little ragtag group, but now instead of constantly running plans for generator completion and item stockpiles, we organized little remembrance sessions, where we would share stories about ourselves or stories from books or television shows we had seen in the other world. I had realized that we had all almost forgotten who we were before; me, an E-sports gamer, sleep deprived as I sought out the next tournament and thrill against my parents’ wishes. I wondered how the Laser Bears were doing without me on their team, but I’m sure I wasn’t heavily missed. Besides, the Trials were more like games now instead of the gruesome torture they had been in times past. It was an intense game of tag between us and the killer, and even though the weapons and the hooks and death still hurt, none of it was nearly as bad as it had been before. Even Myers, to my biggest surprise, had let up a bit to enjoy the Trials rather than go kill to kill.

            But the Trapper hadn’t been the same since Vanessa’s departure. He had been the first killer she had seen, and the first survivor to draw out any sort of conversation with him in what must have been a long time. I didn’t know what drew them together, and I couldn’t hope to ever know, but their separation had been anything but easy for him. He would come to Trials, go through the motions in machine-like fashion, and then leave as soon as the last of us were out without so much as raising a hand to us. We saw him less and less on the Trial grounds, until he stopped appearing altogether, choosing instead to stay wherever he was than face the rest of us and the memory of her. I couldn’t blame him for that; she had made such an impact here, that it was hard to picture her not here anymore. But she was gone, and there were still Trials to be done.

            But it’s not like I could tell him to move on. I still hadn’t gotten over it.

“Feng!” David was returning from a Trial, hand over his side, but already his limping was easing into his typical carefree walk. “You think you could teach me that… ah, what’s it called, how to be alert? Would make it a bit easier to keep track of who’s chasing who.” His grin was infectious, and I was finding it hard not to reflect that same smile, even with the countless thoughts that bustled through my head.

            “Yeah, sure.” But I pushed away those feelings and ideas, instead choosing to smile at the shirtless man before me and keep carrying on like I have been for what must have been a thousand Trials now. “It’s not so hard to be alert. You just gotta listen.” Sure enough, as I said it, I felt a tingle on the back of my neck, a sixth sense prickling at my skin and setting me on edge. I turned slowly, hearing them break branches underfoot before first Vigo, then Benedict came from the woods, their hands clasped behind their backs with devious smirks on their faces. The smile I had adorned disappeared from my face, and it took me a moment to find my voice, “What do you want?”

            The pair of them said nothing, only shared a glance and a knowing grin. “Oh, Feng. We don’t want anything, rather, we’re just here to share a piece of news with you.” I raised a brow when they moved a few steps closer, then parted to either side of me. From the shadows behind them, I saw another, third form materialize in a veil of shimmering embers, walking closer to us until I could just recognize her face. “We have a third among our ranks, though I do believe you both are already acquainted. She’ll be serving as an assistant with a focus in survivor relations, rather than serving Its needs.” The girl gave me a warm, teary smile, and opened her arms to welcome my running embrace.

*-*-*

            I walked the path alone to the MacMillan Estate, one foot in front of the other, watching carefully for set bear traps the closer I got. My heart was pounding in my ears, but not out of fear. The Entity had promised I would not have to be afraid in the Realm anymore, that I was here to serve Its needs and the others. It wasn’t fear that had me shaking in my skin. It was nervous excitement, worrying how he would react to suddenly seeing me here in the Realm after so long. Would he be happy? Would he be angry? I sidestepped a dismantled trap, then passed through a pair of large, twisted trees, chewing my bottom lip as the thought of his rage focused at me now filled me with quivering fear.

            No, he wouldn’t hurt me. The Entity promised I’d be safe, but Evan would never have hurt me before.

Think of something else…

The Entity has held up well on Its end of the bargain; Feng had told me how the survivors each had their own separate living area away from the main hustle and bustle of their campfire. It was simple, comprised of a bed and a dresser with an attached mirror, but much more comfortable than sleeping on stolen bed rolls in the grass. In the dresser, survivors could find hair dyes, different outfits, combs and utensils for shaving, as well as basic hygienic supplies. This little addition boosted survivor attitudes to the point that the Entity had already been back at full power just after two rounds. Benedict had complained during our walk to the survivor camp that the Entity’s curiosity in such simple things had been mind-numbingly exhausting to answer. “Why would they need to brush their teeth?” and “What’s so nice about brushing their hair if they’re just going to shave it off?” were two large questions that the man had been made to answer, but the solution was clear. It made this Realm, this torture chamber, feel more like home.

            But now it was my turn to make a home for a man who has long needed one. I stood at the opening to the cave, unchanged, still dark and damp at the forefront though the insides were far more welcoming. I took a step in, then another, listening to my footsteps echo back at me as I travelled deeper and deeper, until the familiar light began to dance on the damp stones. The shadows made their shapes and gestures across the craggy stones, deepening the contrast on the multitudes of gouges and crevices that wounded the stalagmites. In fact, many of the formations had been cut into or cut off at the top altogether. I felt worry prick at my heart, but I needed to press on.

            The cave proved to be empty once we reached the heart of it. I frowned at the disarray of metal and items, the dwindling pile of gears and springs that fit into his bear traps, the tipped over jars of tar and dye, the cracked and broken whetstones that were once so carefully kept laid out in pieces. Even his weapons, dulled and rusty, were piled against the wall with no sort of organization. I picked up one such item, his discarded meat cleaver, and thumbed the edge carefully in my small hands. If he wasn’t here in the cave, he could be out in a Trial, but based on what Benedict had told me, he would have preferred to stay in his cave instead. It didn’t look like he had left his cave in quite some time, actually.

            So then, where was he?

            The answer came soon enough in the sound of heavy footsteps on stone, not just one set, but two. I heard Philip chattering away, or rather nagging, at his companion that they must cheer up, that it will get easier, but this seemed to be a repeated conversation that had long been worn out. I stayed by the weapons, keeping my back to their approach, struggling to keep my breathing steady as they stepped closer, ever closer.

            Their footsteps stopped.

            “… the fuck are you doing in here?”

            His voice made my heart thump in my chest, reawakening feelings that had long gone dormant. I didn’t turn immediately, didn’t speak either. My heart was exploding in my chest as my worries resurfaced; would he be angry? Did he miss me? Would he welcome me back? My hands folded over my chest, feeling my pulse jump and panic against my palm. Had he recognized me in this dark dress made of dying embers?

            “He asked you a question.” Philip’s rasp didn’t sound too threatening, but the warning was there.

            “I… came to re-introduce myself.” Only then could I be brave enough to turn.

            He was there. Really, truly there. Real. His hands were clutched tightly together, his mask shadowing his expression so that I could not see what face he made. But I didn’t need to. He held so much weight, so much stress in his chest and shoulders. He hunched with his head low, but now it picked up when he finally recognized just who he was looking at. Even Philip, standing quietly by his side with a hand poised on his shoulder, appeared to be shocked that I stood before them.

            Evan didn’t move at first. His hands twitched into tightly balled fists, and a low, hurt chuckle bubbled from his throat, “How fucking dare you… what kind of sick trick is this?” His hand came up to rub under his mask, his head tilting back to scream at the ceiling, “She left. She fucking left! This joke isn’t fucking funny!” I could see just how much he was hurting. I had left so abruptly, with no explanation other than a bunch of shed tears. I didn’t feel the affects like he did, didn’t have to face the utter despair that came with grief and loss. I wasn’t left here to face the aftermath of what I had done, what changes I had caused. I wasn’t here to be in the grasses of the Trials, or laid across the thin blanket Evan kept for himself in this very cave, or be attached to his arm when we weren’t in the Trials. I wasn’t here when he needed me to be.

            But I would be damned if I wouldn’t be there now. I closed the distance between us, reaching out to take his fist in my hands, hold his hot flesh in mine, feel his pulse jump in his wrist at my touch. My thumb rubbed the thick skin of his knuckles, admired the scars and work he had put in with his own hands, the same ones that were so strong and gentle all at once, the ones that took such special care of his traps and had traced every inch of my body with careful finesse. These hands that held so many blades, so many tools, so many stones and so many years’ worth of work and toil, were finally holding mine again. My fingers worked their way between his, holding his hand against the steady beat of my heart. My lips worked to form some utterance of words, but I found that I had nothing to say. I hadn’t wanted to leave, but it’s not like I had a choice. All I could do was make things right.

            Neither of us spoke for a long while, until Philip carefully touched my shoulder. Yes, I was real. I was here. I took a single, shy step closer to Evan, but he took a similar, distraught step back. I felt his hand pull away from mine so that he could turn, pace the cave, process the truth that stood in his cave beside the man that must have been his sole comfort in my absence. Gently, Philip tapped my shoulder and made a gesture towards the cave’s entrance, before he disappeared into the shadows beyond. I was left alone with Evan, who prowled his abode with the energy of a wounded animal. It hurt to watch him shuffle his feet, rub his jaw and cast doubting looks at me from over his shoulder, but there was nothing I could say until he spoke first.

            “…I thought you left.”

            It was barely a whisper, and still he would not look at me. I shook my head slowly, searching inside me for an answer that could possibly begin to explain where I had been. I bit my lip, piecing together the words I could only hope would begin to heal him, “I did leave, Evan. I woke up back there, after my car accident. They revived me, and I went back. I thought all of this had been a dream, fighting against the Entity, falling head over heels into the depths of this place, meeting you and everyone else… I painted you all, over and over again in my studio, trying to understand what I had been seeing in my head. It felt so strange, painting people that I knew but had no recollection that I did. I painted Susie, and Herman, but… you know who I painted the most?” When Evan failed to respond, not even bothering to shake his head in any sort of direction, I took a cautious step towards him, “You. All I could think about was you. I missed you Evan, and I wanted to be with you even without remembering. I painted you over, and over, sketched and sculpted and tried every medium I could think of just to try to have you there with me. When Benedict came to my studio, asked me to come back, I had to say yes. I can’t very well change things here and not stick around for it. But… to say that was the only reason wouldn’t be true.” I felt a thick lump rising in my throat, threatening to choke me with my words, “Evan, I came back to be with you. I love you.”

            He didn’t move other than the tremble I could see in his shoulders. Even as I grew closer and took his hands again, he did nothing but squeeze me so tightly in his large palms. My lip wobbled as the realization hit me; I had destroyed him. “Evan… please… won’t you look at me?” I wasn’t sure how I could still speak. My voice was trembling. Still, he wouldn’t turn his head. I maneuvered so that I could stand before him, with the light of the fire dimly coloring his skin below the mask that kept his expression a mystery to me. My hand slipped away from his to reach up, to lay a palm on the cool texture of his mask, and he leaned into me with a low sounding sigh. My other hand came up now, mirroring the first to now push the veil from his face. It barely passed his lips before his mouth crashed into mine, surprising me with his sudden need to hold me as tight as he possibly could. I could taste his sorrows, his anguish, the anger and hurt that he had bottled up within him. The years of silence and wisdom, the load of words he had wanted to say, all of that he had been able to confide in me with, and then I was gone, leaving him alone to face his thoughts once more. Now that I was back, he was desperate to have me, to hold me, pulling me into his arms and keeping me tight to his chest while he peppered me with kisses and tender touches. My body was alight with sensation, heat, kindled by this man’s need for me. My body easily melted into his, reassuring him that I was there for him, and that I was there to stay.

            Even now, as I write the latest reports in my little journal while cozied up under his arm, I wonder what would have happened had I not crashed that day. I don’t regret my choosing to come back to the Realm, but that little part of me in the back of my head wonders about the real world. I wondered how my parents were doing without me there, their daughter lost to the world only months after surviving an almost fatal wreck. I wondered, against my better judgement, how Trevor was dealing with the knowledge that he had ultimately been the cause for my downhill spiral. I wondered about all the little families and friends throughout the ages that shared some connection with one or more of the residents of this world. Even Evan, who snored away by my side with an arm draped around my waist, had to have people who looked out for and cared for him.

            But maybe that’s why the Entity wanted me to come back. I gently shut the little leather journal and burrowed my way into Evan’s chest, letting a gracious sigh fill my lungs and exhale in one long puff. It must have realized that I was capable of drawing out the stories of these people, figure out their thoughts and find out how they came into the fog. I could serve as their anchor to the waking world, remind them that they were wanted both here and there, and look out for them. I could help them create a legacy here. I myself had figured out my own life story after forgetting all of it following the traumatizing crash that had ripped me from this place, and I went forth to start a revolution. If anyone could help them tell their stories, I could.

            Evan’s low, sleepy mutter had me pulled from my reverie, his chin snuffling against the bare skin of my neck as his arms tightened around my waist. “…You’re still awake?” Evan’s gentle voice finally grumbled in my ear, taking note of the little notebook I had pushed aside. “What’s that?”

            “Well, I still have to do the Entity’s work if I want to stay here.” I turned in the bed to face him, tilting my chin up so that I may peck a kiss on his chin. “So I’m going to do a little collection of stories from the other survivors and killers. I think I’ll call it ‘Tales of the Fog.’” Evan’s huff of breath tickled my hair as he chuckled. I raised a brow, incredibly curious of his reaction, “What?”

            “And how will that appease our almighty Master?” He propped himself up on his elbow, watching me with an amused grin on his face. “Give It a bedtime story?”

            “Give It some insight on what the survivors see, and what you all see.” I corrected as I bedded down into the thick comfort of his warmth and the blankets, an unwanted yawn drawing out my words, “I think these stories will help It understand how we deal with Its challenges.” I let my eyes close finally, humming my contentment when I felt Evan’s large palm stroke my hair. “I think it’ll be good for everyone, to keep a record.”

            “I think so too.” Evan’s low rumble was the best lullaby I could hope for. In the quiet shelter of his arms, in the heat of his embrace, it didn’t take me long before I was drifting into a quiet, peaceful sleep. No more nightmares for this Realm, no more running from Reapers and fighting to humanize those who had never wanted to be here.

            No more suffering in a deity’s claws. I would make sure of that.

 

 

-End-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for taking this journey into the fog with me! I'm so sorry this update is late, but hey, it's here! 30 whole chapters, wow... Y'know, I started this fic because I REALLY didn't wanna write a theater paper. And here we are, six months (I think?) later, with a WHOLE story now just written for your reading pleasure. I'm so grateful to you guys for reading and leaving comments (I read every single one) because it really inspired me to keep going. And some comments even gave me ideas to put into the story (most notably how the "red stain" applies in this story).   
> Thank you guys again for reading Into the Fog. I *do* have an idea for a sequel, which would be titled Tales of the Fog, but I want to take a break for a bit so I can re-focus on my schoolwork. The updates won't be as frequent as Into the Fog's was, but I do hope to keep writing.


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